


Coming Back Around

by lori (zakhad), zakhad



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-10 14:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6961030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/zakhad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not part of the Captain and Counselor series, by design. I'm still in denial about the existence of Insurrection so this is some time after First Contact (the movie).</p><p>Gifted to the author of the suggestion that generated the plot bunny. It was rabid, and wanted to go after Selfish!Riker with its long sharp fangs, but in the end he stayed off somewhere in space and didn't need the beating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silverfairy22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverfairy22/gifts).



_Turning into something_  
_Drifting off to old ways_  
_Got to pull myself back in_  
  
_Holding back the questions_  
_We're bruised with all rejection_  
_Gotta pull myself back in_  
  
_Suffer the breaks_  
_You know I still remember it_  
_It keeps burning away_  
_I know that you may take a while_  
_To come back around_  
  
_Reaching out for someone_  
_Burning out for so long_  
_Got to pull myself back in_  
_There's no new religion_  
_And there's no real solution_  
_Gotta pull myself back in_

_Come back around_  
_I miss you around_

_~~ Back Around, Bonnie Raitt ~~_

* * *

It started on his birthday. Picard knew, without a doubt, that there would be no party. The current crop of officers were too new to understand how to do that, for him -- the first officer had been aboard the longest, but eight months was not long enough. His chief of security was the latest addition, coming aboard just two months ago. The chief medical officer, Dr. Mason, was in his fifties and had a good bit of experience aboard ships that had seen action in the Dominion War. The second officer had promoted upward from the  _ Enterprise’ _ s own staff, had been on the watch during gamma shift previously. 

The counselor, on the other hand -- he had had one for six months, after Deanna had gone on her honeymoon with Will. While he certainly wished them all happiness, he had missed her more than the others. It was strange to him, that this would be so. He certainly hadn’t anticipated that would be the case. It was Beverly who came to breakfast, who chided him to get enough exercise or take leave, and generally did all the things he would expect a wife to do, without any of the nuisance of actually having a wife. She had always been a good friend -- he’d considered her his closest friend, for a long time, since Jack and so many other old friends had died or become ever more distant. But even Beverly came to the point that she wanted change. And so she was now in charge of Starfleet Medical, and he remained aboard the ship.

There were times that Picard found himself on the bridge, in the ready room, when all was quiet and the ship in between missions, on the way to the next one, or to a starbase, or simply exploring a part of a sector that had yet to be mapped -- times when he would think about his friends. He considered calling them. Sometimes, he did. Managing to get in touch with someone for a live conversation could be difficult. They did exchange messages, but those were coming farther apart, and it was as it always had been. He accepted it. Sadly, but he knew the cycle of making friends and moving on, in Starfleet. In life, actually. It would never be the same again. 

He replicated a second cup of coffee and returned to his desk. The 1701-E had a different aesthetic. It was a reflection of the times, this utilitarian design to everything down to the shape and size of his desk -- he had no space for more than a cup of tea on it, the surface was now covered with controls for the different readouts that gave him full access to what was happening all over his ship. 

On the far left side of the desk, he kept a picture of his former staff -- Will, Deanna, Beverly, Data, Geordi, and Worf. It wasn’t often that he spent time actually looking at it, but he liked to know it was there. He picked it up now, and studied the subdued smiles -- it was a formal posed shot, saying nothing about the laughter during poker games, or the comradery, or the fond embraces of his friends at Will and Deanna’s wedding. 

Putting the picture back in place, Picard turned to bring up the messages he’d been accumulating. It was amazing to him that they would pile up so fast. The fourth one down had Deanna’s name in the header -- curious, how she had finally sent him a message after all this time, just as he had been thinking about her. It appeared she had just sent it not fifteen minutes before. He asked the computer to play it back for him.

“Captain,” she said, and already he sat straight up in his chair. She sounded as though she were crying. “I hope this message finds you well. I regret that I have been… That I have not made the time to contact you, since the wedding, especially to thank you for the lovely gift. I hope -- “

There was a long pause. He knew the message had not ended, so waited for the rest, though he was tempted to simply attempt direct contact with her. Something was wrong. She didn’t typically hesitate this way.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, at long last. “I’m not at my best, at the moment. I’ve contacted you to ask for a letter of reference. I’ve left my position on the  _ Titan _ and have been staying for a while at Starbase 245, until I can find a new assignment -- “

Picard left his desk, not even staying to hear the rest. He burst onto the bridge, caught himself as Nisqually turned from the helm to stare at him with wide eyes, along with Blasingame’s placid gaze from ops. 

“How long will it take to reach Starbase 245?” He tried to be crisp, calm, collected, but there was a slight edge of anxiety to his words.

“Twenty-six hours, at warp six, sir,” Nisqually announced after a brief consultation of his console. 

“Change course for Starbase 245, warp factor seven.” Picard did an about-face and headed for the turbolift. “You have the bridge, Mr. Stahl.”

“Aye, sir,” the first officer responded, officious as always.

On the way to his quarters, he contemplated calling Deanna. Or Will -- what the hell had happened between them? He entered his spartan living space and stood there for a moment, reeling from the news. He couldn’t think of a thing to say to either of them. How did one go about such a thing? Asking about what split up a newly-married couple was so far from anything he felt any right to do. 

“Computer, is Captain William Riker still in command of the  _ Titan _ ?”

“Affirmative. Captain Riker is the commanding officer of the USS  _ Titan, _ current position -- “

“Computer, what is Captain Riker’s current marital status?”

“Captain Riker is married to Commander Deanna Troi Riker.”

So that much remained true. He picked up the padd he’d left on his regulation-gray sofa and looked at the short list of replacement counselors he’d been resisting, after the fiasco that was Counselor Diaz, and wondered if this was an answer to his need for a new counselor, though he very much disliked that it might come at the cost of a marriage.

* * *

It took twelve hours, at warp seven, and he left the ship in orbit to beam down to the starbase, which was on Bendar Six, a class M planet that had been colonized by several Federation worlds more than a decade before. He found a wall terminal within the same building as the transporter room and the computer pleasantly informed him of the location of quarters assigned to Deanna Troi. So she was indeed on the base, and not in one of the colony towns. He had a thought to meet with the starbase commander, just as a courtesy, but it was well into beta shift, and he had more pressing things to do.

“Picard to Troi.”

Belatedly, he realized his mistake, not using her married name, but she responded after a moment. “Captain?”

He paused, and decided to stick to the matter at hand. “If you have the time, I’d like to speak with you?”

“Yes, yes, of course -- I’m at a cafe, on the base, near the administration building. On the west side? I can come -- ”

“I’ll be there momentarily. Picard out.”

He hurried and was out of breath as he rounded the administration building, nearly half a kilometer from the transporter. She was at one of a handful of tables outside, on a patio, alone -- there was no one else around. As he strode over to her, trying to regain his composure, he realized two things simultaneously. She looked tired, with red-rimmed eyes, as if she had been crying. And as she stood to greet him he saw at once that she was obviously pregnant. The green pantsuit she wore showed it plainly. He came to a halt, gaping, and couldn’t set aside the fury rising in him at the sight of her there, alone, without Will.

Her eyes glistened, and more tears fell; her shoulders sank. Picard realized that she knew exactly what he was feeling, and closed the distance between them in three steps, putting his arms around her. 

Unexpectedly, the dam burst and she was sobbing against his shoulder while he ineffectually, awkwardly held her and felt rage against Will, and discomfort, and a sadness that she had to be in this situation. Deanna collected herself after a few minutes and pulled away, reaching for some napkins that lay on the table next to her drink. 

He pulled a chair around and sat facing her, and she seated herself again, dabbing at her eyes. “You came,” she said, quietly surprised and grateful. “You shouldn’t have -- “

“Rubbish,” he exclaimed. “You shouldn’t be alone in this -- my god, where the hell is he? What the hell is he thinking? I have half a mind to -- “

Her expression of embarrassed shame stopped him. She hunched in on herself, covering her face with her hands. “I left and told him not to follow me. I don’t need his help. I certainly don’t need -- I couldn’t stay,” she wailed, caught herself, took a deep breath. “She’s in security. I’m not going to spend another minute -- I just need to terminate the marriage contract. I’ll worry about visitation and other matters after the baby is born.”

Picard took a moment to take it in, inhaled sharply, and decided. “Come back to the  _ Enterprise _ .”

She wiped her face again, with the wadded napkin. “Oh….”

“Deanna, let me help you. If you feel you need work, your old position is open again. Or you could just tend bar -- Guinan hasn’t come back, and the lounge is quite dull without a bartender. Or just stay on extended leave and come along for the ride. It doesn’t matter to me. It’s my ship, and you’ll always be welcome on it. Frankly I’m a little upset that you didn’t simply come home.”

She sat up at last and smiled at him, laughed a little, but clapped her hand over her mouth and started to cry again. “Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, damn it, stop that. Unless you’re accepting the position again, it’s not going to be sir.” He stood, and gestured for her to get up and move. “Let’s go get your things.”

“What happened to Counselor Diaz? I thought you would like her,” she said, leaving the near-empty cup on the table and walking away from the cafe with him.

“The infernal woman had no respect for me. She wanted to make me do some sort of cognitive therapy, I didn’t want to do it. She contacted an admiral and tried to force me to go, as if that would work. I had to go through all the trouble of having a counselor from Starfleet Command come out and assess me, just to have a second opinion to back me up that I didn’t need it.”

Deanna sighed, shaking her head as they walked along the path around the building to head for the base housing. “You should have told her to contact me. I could have set her straight.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. It sounded like you were very busy, the last I’d heard from you.”

Deanna slowed down, and it worried him that she had a hand over her bulging abdomen and looked pained. Her dark eyes flicked up as she registered how he felt. “It’s nothing. I’m just thinking that even if I did take my old job back, I can’t be your personal counselor.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable doing,” he told her, putting a hand on her shoulder. When that felt inadequate, he slid it across her back and pulled her into a hug. 

She leaned against him, not crying this time, and when they parted he gave her what he hoped was a comforting smile. Deanna blinked, and stared at him with one of her understated, complex expressions that suggested but didn’t give away any solid evidence of her feelings.

“I missed you, Captain,” she said.

“Well, then, let’s get your things and put a stop to that, shall we?”

* * *

He saw her settled into quarters on his deck, just down the corridor, and made sure to introduce her to Dr. Mason, as she would likely require his care, with the baby and all. She gave him a fond, amused look when he said so, that made him bluster and want to flee. He instructed her to let him know if she needed anything, and told her to spend some time relaxing and thinking about what she wanted, because there were crew who were waiting for counseling. He didn’t mention his procrastination in finding a replacement that had led to that, of course.

With the ship under way, he went to his ready room to once again address the influx of messages. To his surprise, there was one from Will Riker. He listened to several others, including an invitation to the Admiral’s Ball, an invitation to speak at the Academy graduation -- good god, how many of those things had he done over the years? -- and, lo and behold, one from Beverly. She hadn’t contacted him in months. Wesley had managed to completely distract her by coming home to her with a young lady in tow, and Picard had suspected she might be a grandmother before long. 

“Jean-Luc, hello,” she began in a breezy, carefree tone. “Sorry it’s been so long. Wesley and Carina have been keeping me busy -- you’ll get a formal invitation from them, but they’ll be getting married soon. I wanted to let you know six months in advance so you can figure out how to get to it. I sent the appointment straight to your calendar, just like I always had to do with your annuals.” 

A long pause. He was starting to hate those.

“I heard from Will, of all people,” she began, slowly, as if anticipating his ire. “I haven’t -- it’s been Deanna keeping in touch, with brief attachments from Will, all this time. Until there was nothing for a while. And now I have this message from him, and it’s… I honestly don’t know what to do, Jean-Luc. He said Deanna left a few weeks ago. He doesn’t know where she is, because she’s filed an injunction and a legal separation, and the computer system now refuses to tell him anything about her as a result. I tried to call her mother and Lwaxana doesn’t have a clue -- she’s beside herself with worry, because of course Will tried to find her there. I tried to reach her myself and she isn’t responding to my messages. Will said… he said she’s pregnant, Jean-Luc. I’m starting to worry about her. So all I could think to do was to see if you could find her, and let me know if she’s all right?”

Picard smiled at this, shaking his head. He could see it coming -- getting caught up in a good game of he-said she-said. He saved the message and did not respond to it directly. The message from Will, like Beverly’s, was illuminating.

“Jean-Luc,” it began, in a gruff, stressed-sounding version of his former first officer’s voice. “I apologize for the long delay in getting in touch with you. I’ve been preoccupied with -- a lot of things, actually. I know this is going to sound odd without a lot of explanation but -- Deanna left, and I don’t know where she is. If you’ve heard from her, could you let me know? I’ll get in touch with you in a while -- I just need to find her first, make sure she’s all right.”

There was a little more to it, the usual promises to get together when possible or some such, but Picard stared at the floor, profoundly disappointed in his friend. He contemplated making a direct call to Will to read him the riot act. But he concluded that the best course was to stay out of the middle of things, and decided that he would do the same as Will. To the point, nothing more.

“Computer, record a message to Captain William Riker.”

“Recording.”

“Will, I wish that I could say it’s good to hear from you. But I can’t claim that, given the circumstances. I do know where she is. I know that she is safe, and that she wants no contact with you at this time, and so I can only give you the reassurance that I will be continuing to stay in touch with her to be certain of her safety. I hope that you respect her wishes.”

He tapped the panel to send the message, and sat back in his chair, wishing things were better between his friends. Deanna’s sad eyes had nearly brought tears to his own, today. 

The annunciator went off. He called out to admit the person, and was surprised to see Deanna come in. She had changed, now wore something reminiscent of the early years when she was counselor -- a blue dress, with matching leggings under the skirt, though without so much visible cleavage. She came to his desk slowly, and he realized she no longer walked with the confident stride of an officer -- he missed Counselor Troi, again, with that thought.

Deanna halted, suddenly uncertain. But she rallied and forced a smile, and reached his desk, resting her fingertips on the back of one of the chairs. “I hope I am not intruding.”

“Is something the matter?”

She seemed to be on the verge of tears again, but while her expression was so eloquently sad, she maintained her composure and raised her head as if determined to look him in the eye. “Is there? I could sense your anger from six decks down.”

“Will and Beverly both sent me messages, because Will contacted her trying to find you.”

“Did you tell him?” She was angry now, probably also terrified. Something about her eyes.

“No. I sent a message to tell him I knew where you were, and not to bother you. Which may be the same as telling him you are here, but he’s not going to get to you, Deanna. We’re heading parsecs in the opposite direction, and he’s not going to get aboard without a fight if he does violate his orders and come after you.”

She deflated abruptly, sank into the chair, and held her head in her hands. 

“I don’t like this, and I intend to tell Will off, resoundingly. But not until you are able to pop some popcorn and enjoy it.”

Something that sounded like a sob of laughter burst out of her. “I didn’t want to involve anyone in this,” she exclaimed wetly. She sat up again, tossing her hair back, and smiled at him despite the swollen eyelids and the tears. “I honestly don’t want to disrupt your life, Captain, and I feel as though I’m being a terrible imposition on you. You don’t have to come to my defense. I can shout at Will well enough, all on my own.”

He thought about it, and nodded to himself. “I agree. I don’t have to do anything. But I want to, because I can, and you need a place to stay until you know what you want to do next. You need a friend. It’s beyond me why you ran away to hide on some starbase instead of calling Beverly, but so be it.”

She contemplated for a minute. “Beverly would be furious and want to send him angry messages. I couldn’t call her. My mother -- “ The thought led to closing her eyes and giving a prolonged wince of pain. “I couldn’t call Worf, he would kill him. I can’t even imagine asking Geordi for help with this. Data… I actually thought about going to stay with him, because he would be so calming, I wouldn’t need to put up with his anger, or pain, on my behalf, because there wouldn’t be any. But he also wouldn’t have a clue of how to be empathetic and it would turn into one of his quests for yet another facet of humanity he hasn’t mastered, and I think he would drive me crazy by the time the baby was born.”

Picard waited to hear the rest, raised an eyebrow when she didn’t continue. “And?”

“Oh, Captain,” she exclaimed.

“I thought I told you to stop that.”

She stared at him for too long, with an inscrutable expression that started to make him feel vaguely uncomfortable. “I didn’t want to bother you with this,” she murmured at last.

“Don’t I get to determine what’s bothering me?”

She smiled with him -- it was an echo of an old conversation they had had in one of his counseling sessions. Part of him he hadn’t recognized as tense relaxed at the sight of her smile. 

“It’s ship’s night, and you need your sleep.”

Deanna rolled her eyes. “It’s not as though you are exempt from needing sleep, you know.”

“I’ll go if you go.”

She stood up, and he came around the desk to follow her from the ready room. The beta shift watch officer stood to attention as they passed through the bridge to the lift. In the lift, she sighed and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes again.

“I feel like I should apologize to you, on behalf of the male half of the human race,” he said. 

Deanna’s amusement was good to see; the pain that laced her smile and put creases in her forehead was not. Feeling like an idiot, he put an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder.

She surprised him by starting to laugh. “Oh, it’s not -- I -- “ Deanna sighed heavily. “Capt -- Jean-Luc. Please. If you start going out of your way to comfort me every time I cry, I’m going to suspect alien possession.”

It wasn’t quite funny enough to laugh at, but it was one of those odd moments where it was laugh or cry, and he laughed with her for a moment. “It’s not that, it’s more that -- I feel terrible, about everything. I performed your wedding. I watched you being happy with him. And I felt -- “

Deanna’s smile dwindled, and her gaze went to the floor. “You doubted. I know that you were not the only one. I had quite a lecture from Mother, on being certain that I knew he had changed from the man who left me so many years ago -- I had my own doubts. But there comes a time when the romance of a lifetime looks less likely, for women, and I’m no stranger to uncertainty. How many couples I counseled through the years. How many times I watched him, with other women, and listened to him dream of having children, and how easy it was to just believe him and go along. I knew before he did it that he would. I knew how he felt about her. I told myself he would be attracted to other women, because it’s unreasonable to expect any man not to be. I told myself he wouldn’t actually follow through. I thought he would never be so brazen to -- he couldn’t even wait until I was off the ship somewhere, where I couldn’t sense him doing it. He -- “

She choked on the words. Rather than let go, he let her lean on his arm, as she groped for composure once more. 

The lift stopped, the door slid open on the empty corridor, and he walked her slowly down to her door. She looked at the closed door as if she were about to walk across a desert wasteland. 

“I want you to contact me if you need anything,” he said softly.

Her face changed, several emotions flitting across it before she ended up with disbelief.

“I don’t care what time it is. Any more than you did when I was suffering through my own traumas. Only I can’t sense when you’re having a meltdown, so you’ll have to either leave an open channel or contact me to let me know.”

Deanna threw her arms around her neck in a way she’d never done before, holding on to him tightly and without the stiff hesitance she’d had before. He wrapped his arms around her and let her cling for as long as she wanted.

“I’ll do as you ask,” she whispered as she backed away. “I’ll call. Unless there’s a red alert.”

He smiled at it, holding her by the arms and gripping them firmly. “Good. Do I need to replicate some warm milk?”

“No, I’m exhausted. And I think… it will help. Having someone I know well nearby helps. Good night.”

“See you in the morning. Breakfast is at six hundred hours.”

A flicker of disbelief in her eyes, again. But she smiled at it and nodded. He waited while she went in, and then headed down to his own quarters. Like her, he felt weary, but he was satisfied that he’d done what he could. For today, at least.

* * *

“Come,” he called out, when the chime sounded right on time for breakfast. Deanna walked in, and it was another moment of deja vu, as she wore another flowing dress, a metallic one this time with dark bronze leggings underneath, the lighter bronze skirt shimmering as she walked. She looked as pleasant and composed as she ever had, all the years she’d spent as his counselor. Her hair had been tied up in a knot on the back of her head instead of on the crown, as she used to wear. She seemed stunned, hesitating a little, then came to sit with him on the couch. He’d not thought about it but set up on the coffee table, as he’d always done when Beverly was coming to breakfast. 

“I can replicate something else, if this is not -- “

“No, this is fine -- thank you.” She took a plate and picked up a piece of fruit from the bowl, and a croissant from the tray. “I spent some time thinking about everything, before I fell asleep last night.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” she said, looking at him with questioning in her eyes. She pressed her lips together and studied him, then gave her head a tiny shake and pulled a piece of croissant off and put it in her mouth. “I’d like to go back to being ship’s counselor. It’s comfortable, and I’ve missed it.”

“I thought you were….”

He regretted it, as her lips settled in a moue of displeasure. “I was, at first.” A pause, as she considered, and then leaned to set the plate down, pick up the croissant, and nibble on it here and there as she spoke. “I know you are angry at him. I know also that he will tell you his version, eventually, and it will differ from mine. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, with all the details of what happened, and it’s hardly going to change anything to tell you the whole story.”

“Then why did you insist that I tell you so much, when I didn’t want to, if it makes no difference?”

She gave him a sharp look that he hadn’t seen from her before. Then a smile broke across her face, lighting her up in a way that startled him. “You aren’t my counselor, you know,” she murmured, leaning a little and putting her hand over his, briefly. 

“Why did you stop being the ship’s counselor?”

Deanna ate a little more, put down the half a croissant, and started to peel the banana. “He didn’t let me stand watch, any more. He didn’t put me on away teams, because the first one went… bad, and I was injured. And he couldn’t do it, after all, what he claimed he could. Let me be an officer.”

“That implies he cared more than I would expect, given the current circumstance.”

She treated the banana as she had the croissant, breaking off chunks to put in her mouth. “I know that he cares, Jean-Luc. What he doesn’t do is remind himself that caring sometimes means letting the other person make mistakes, make choices for themselves, and he puts his own passions in the forefront. He was able to do such kind things, for me. He was a shoulder to cry on, a sounding board. I thought that would continue after the marriage. But I know well enough that a marriage contract changes the relationship, sometimes in unpredictable ways. And he didn’t predict that he might find Lieutenant Atchison getting under his skin. She’s beautiful, and she’s all the things I used to be, before I started to have morning sickness, backaches and leg cramps.” She broke off, tilted her head a little, as if listening to something.

As he was about to ask, she raised her eyes to his and smiled again. “She’s moving, that’s all. It feels like butterflies.”

“Five months,” he said, startling her. Her smile returned as she thought about it.

“It’s easy for me to forget Kataan, it was a long time ago, but I suppose it was an education you’ll never forget, having two children.”

“And a grandchild. Meribor was a good mother, as her mother was. I’m afraid… I hovered, a little too much.”

Deanna looked down at the bump in her dress and smoothed her hand over it. “You miss it, didn’t you? Not just Eline, you miss fatherhood.”

He took a banana himself, and busied himself with peeling it. “I miss a lot of things. When I got your message I was thinking about all of you, including Worf. How it used to be when the  _ Enterprise _ was really a family. We’re a warship now, I’ve had a complete turnover of senior staff, and most of the junior staff, and it’s not the same. All quite normal and status quo for Starfleet, of course. It’s difficult to think about it now. Worf wanted to be a father for Alexander and struggled through only to see him disappear from his life for a long while. I was happy to hear they had re-established contact. Sad to hear he lost his wife. Beverly has Wesley back, now, but I know she missed him terribly while he was off having whatever adventures he had. Geordi… I got an invitation to his wedding, and regret being in the middle of a crisis and unable to go. I hope he is more successful than the rest of us, in family relationships.”

“I think he will be. Of course, I’ve been wrong before,” she said sadly, putting the last bit of her banana in her mouth. 

Picard dropped the empty peel on the tray and reached for the coffee pot, to refill his cup. “When do you want to start? I can have your office ready by the end of the day. Once I put you in place I’ll never see you again, there’s quite a list of people waiting to talk to someone.”

Her lips twitched at his hyperbole, and her eyes had a glow in them that he had seen before. “I think perhaps next week. Dr. Mason suggested that I rest for a few days. He didn’t like how stressed I’ve been. Jean-Luc… why did Counselor Diaz want you in therapy?”

“She said I was depressed.”

Now she was scowling at him. “Are you?”

He gestured vaguely, crossed his legs, sipped his coffee, balanced it on his knee, and considered a second croissant. “I wasn’t happy, but I didn’t have many real symptoms. I think she thought my not wanting to talk to her meant more than it did. She isn’t…. She wasn’t you. She practically demanded that I tell her things. It was like having -- forgive me, but she reminded me too much of your mother.”

Deanna laughed at it, gently, and he smiled. She finished the last bit of croissant and reached for another. “You don’t seem unhappy to me. I suppose having a friend here is helping?”

“Of course it is. Although, it’s still not what I would want, not what you should have ended up doing -- but it is good to see you, Deanna. And I do mean what I say. You can be here, in any capacity you choose, for as long as you wish. I’m not going to treat you as if you are incapable in any way.” He glanced at her abdomen, smiled wistfully. “Even if I do feel quite a bit protective at the moment, just because it reminds me of my life on Kataan, and it’s just what I’d feel regardless. Have you given her a name, yet?”

“I have too many. I’m favoring Adelaide, at the moment.”

“A fine name.” He put his empty cup on the tray. “I suppose I should get to the bridge. I suspect we are about to arrive at our destination. I’ll tell you all about it over lunch.”

Her stare made him hesitate in rising from the couch. Unexpectedly, she took his hand and firmly gripped it. “Thank you. For everything. This isn’t -- it’s not what I would have ever expected you to do, it’s not like you, to -- “

“You shouldn’t be going through this alone, Deanna. Anyone, everyone, will tell you that. You taught me that isolating yourself is only going to be bad for your health -- it’s not something you are exempt from. If it’s bothering you to have me helping you, let me know who you would like to stay with, and I’ll take you there. All right?”

She was on the verge of tears again, incredulous, shaking her head. But she swallowed and took a deep breath, and nodded. “All right. Okay. It -- okay. But -- “

He waited, holding her hand gently, but she didn’t finish whatever it was she was on the verge of saying. The wavering smile she ended up with was good enough, for now. “Good. Don’t feel you have to clean up, I’ll get to it later. Have some more, if you’re still hungry -- you’re probably not eating enough, either. See you later.”

Picard glanced back as he went out the door, and kept going despite the stunned look she was giving him. 

* * *

Picard’s routine settled into a predictable pattern again, adjusting itself around Deanna. He’d paid close attention to her for a while, to be sure she was settling in without issues, and gradually backed off again, until they were meeting when necessary for ship’s business and taking the occasional meal together. Four weeks passed almost before he realized it. She’d filled her schedule with appointments and from all appearances it agreed with her -- she stopped looking like she was falling apart, and had a ready smile for him when they were together.

He had changed into a pair of gray slacks and a matching sweater, and was heading to holodeck four where they were supposed to meet, when she came from the other direction around a corner and startled him into a statue. “Deanna?”

She had put on one of the loose, flowing dresses she favored off duty, as her belly had begun to be cumbersome and pants only emphasized it. Her expression reminded him of the day he’d found her at the cafe, looking lost and depressed. She couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. Taking her elbow, he led her into the holodeck. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked after the doors closed behind them.

“My attorney let me know the divorce is final. And Will, too, apparently. The injunction is still in place, but he had someone he knows forward me a message. He’s furious, said he gave me plenty of time, and he wanted to work it out and still does.”

“You sounded definite, in not wanting to go back. Is that still the case?”

She looked down at the yellow grid on the floor. He had the impression she was silent because there were things she couldn’t say. Her arms went around her belly, and when her shoulders moved forward in that way they did when she was closing herself emotionally, he put his hands on them.

“She’s kicking,” Deanna murmured. She took his hand from her right shoulder and put it against her navel, and he felt the thumping. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, letting his hand drop. He left the other on her shoulder. “Do you still want to do this? Perhaps you would be better off resting, or -- “

“No. I’ve been looking forward to this all day. It’s been a long series of sessions about relationships, and it can be difficult not to let my feelings get in the way of other people’s therapy,” she said. 

He told the computer to load the program, and Marseille materialized around them -- not the current modern one, but the nineteenth century version with stark white walls, lush greenery, buildings terraced up the hillsides and the basilica on the top of the hill. They stood on a cobbled road overlooking rocky coastline, deep green-blue seas, and a few seagulls went over them, keening in the usual way that sounded lonely to him.

“Oh,” she said simply, surveying the landscape. She seemed impressed. “It’s so beautiful. The colors -- it’s wonderful. I can see why you like it.”

They walked along the road, empty of any traffic as he’d removed people from the simulation. It was the doctor’s orders to get exercise, and this was her way of doing it. She’d asked for suggestions, and it had started a thrice-weekly walk in some landscape on Earth, some of them historical. 

Deanna was silent as usual, but as they entered town, started down a lane between rows of silent houses, she took his hand. It startled him. He nearly stopped walking, but said nothing, did nothing, and let her continue to hold his fingers in hers, gently.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at an idle butter churn standing near an open door. 

“A butter churn. The plunger was agitated in the vessel until the milk fat congealed into butter. One of the many ancient implements we replaced with a replicator.”

“We have something similar in the museums on Betazed.” And they were off, talking about history, as they’d done so often over the years. 

She was, he realized, one of the few who indulged his fits of historical passion. He’d attributed it to being a good listener, but she showed interest -- not so keen as his, but it was there just the same. Beverly would tolerate it to a point and change the subject. Data could maunder on endlessly about anything, and would if allowed, but it wasn’t interest that drove him. Will had never had more than a passing interest and what was there, was quite specific to places he was interested in. And he revised his thought -- Deanna was the only one, the singular person who listened without impatience, without judgment. Her amusement was not the same as Will’s teasing manner or Beverly’s distant tolerance. Deanna had never laughed at him from any distance, or at least she’d never given him the impression that she had. She laughed with him, when she laughed at all. And it was not something that had been limited to counseling sessions.

She halted, looking at him, bringing it to his attention that his sudden tangent into thought had disrupted a discussion of agricultural practices of nineteenth century France. Picard smiled, shook his head, and squeezed her hand. “Nothing.”

“Nothing.”

“Something, but -- “ He ran up against the knowledge that he couldn’t lie, couldn’t get away with anything less than the truth, and despite her hand in his, there were too many considerations weighing heavy on his heart to even suggest anything to her.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

The silence returned as they walked to the end of the road, into a large square with a low wall over which one could view the ocean. So they did so, and he let go of her hand and placed both of his on the warm stones in front of them. 

He noticed out of the corner of his eye when her hand went to the small of her back. “Deanna?” 

Turning, she sat on the wall, legs wide, leaning forward and closing her eyes in a wince. He was at her side in a second, not even thinking about it when he put his fingertips along her spine and pushed, hard, shoving them slowly down the bumps of bone into places that he suspected were sore. 

“Oh,” she gasped, surprised, grabbing his other arm. “God. How did you know?”

“It seems there are common traits in the pregnancies of humanoids. Here?” He pushed in with his thumb and rubbed.

“Thank you,” she said, and sighed deeply. “I hesitate to take anything for it, for Adelaide’s sake.”

“You decided that’s her name, then?” Picard sat next to her on the wall and ran his hand up to rest on her shoulder, not wanting to pull away completely. 

“It’s what I’ve been calling her, so I suppose it is.” Deanna hung her head, braced her hands on her knees, and took a few more breaths. “The spasm subsided. Better now.”

“We should have a ship’s masseuse, I think.” 

“Or I should have someone who can take care of that for me,” she said matter-of-factly. 

For a moment, he was speechless. 

Deanna sat up, regarding him with a sober even look that said she knew -- not just suspected. But she said nothing. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed at last. Folding his hands in his lap, he sat on the low wall, the warmth of the sun on his back and the onshore breeze running cold fingers across his scalp.

“About what?”

“Why did you tell me you couldn’t be my personal counselor? When I found you at the starbase?”

He didn’t look at her, instead watched a bird perching on a lamp post, looking to and fro, then fluttering down to join a small flock of other sparrows. 

“It was impossible before I left to join the  _ Titan. _ I knew, after we defeated the Borg in the twentieth century, that I couldn’t do it. Some time in the past few years I started to think of you as a friend, closer than before, and it’s not ethical to try to do that sort of thing with a good friend. It’s why I never did any sort of counseling with Will. I made him talk to the assistant counselor, when we had one.” She paused. “What happened to the assistant counselor that was here when I left?”

“Oh, she -- left.”

Deanna came off the wall, crossed her arms, and glared down at him. “Why?”

“I… I think she was afraid of me, actually. I think -- “

“Jennifer wasn’t afraid of you,” she exclaimed. “What did you do?”

“Why are you assuming I did anything?” he shot back, perfectly aware of how defensive he sounded. 

“Jennifer could have stepped up if she’d been here. What happened?”

“Diaz. She tried to get me to work with Michaels, when I refused to work with her. I -- “

When he couldn’t continue, Deanna chuckled. “You snapped at her. Why didn’t you apologize?”

“I did. Michaels had already -- “

“You can’t wait until she’s already half out the door, Jean-Luc, honestly,” Deanna exclaimed. “You must have wanted to get rid of her, you know better!”

“All these accusations,” he blurted, flinging out his arms in a broad gesture of frustration. “I didn’t do a damn thing!”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it,” she blurted. “Knowing something is wrong and doing nothing. Just like I knew better and married Will anyway. Because it certainly wasn’t going to be any good, waiting around for -- for anyone I might find, some day, who would be able to fend off temptation and actually pay attention to the fact that marriage is supposed to include some sort of fidelity.”

He looked up at her, instead of at the cobblestones between his feet, to find she had started to cry again. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, caving in a little internally at having caused this.

She swayed, putting a hand on her abdomen, and closed her eyes tightly. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I think it’s a contraction,” she whispered. 

“Computer, end program.” He was on his feet at once, guiding her to the door, heading for sickbay.

The nurse on duty summoned the doctor, who arrived in minutes. Dr. Mason was a credit to his profession, not so much as looking askance at Picard for bringing her in at this time of the day, in civilian clothing. He had Deanna on a bed and checked her over thoroughly.

“I’m keeping you here for the night, just to be on the safe side,” the doctor said. “I’m going to get a sedative. I believe it was just a random contraction -- nothing to really worry about, Deanna. Be right back.” Mason was off to the other end of sickbay.

Picard touched her arm. “It’s going to be all right. No more arguing for you.”

“That’s not what caused it,” she said, letting her head fall back on the thin pillow. 

“You don’t need the stress, just the same,” he said. “I’m putting a filter in the computer to keep him from getting through to you in roundabout ways, too. You don’t need his anger right now.”

Deanna closed her eyes, sighed, smiled, and nodded. “Thank you, so much. I -- “

She couldn’t seem to find words, and then the doctor returned with the hypo. “Here you go.” He pressed it to her throat, then stood back and looked at Picard directly for the first time. “Will you be staying here with her?”

“No, but do let me know if anything….”

Mason smiled, ran his fingers through his thinning blond hair. “Absolutely, Captain.”

Picard patted her shoulder and left her there, not looking back, which was hard to do.

* * *

Picard had difficulty understanding the way the bureaucratic mind worked, some days. He was listening to a message from Admiral Whitaker (who the hell was that, anyway, he’d never met the man currently talking to him as if they were old friends) extolling the wonders of the admiralty ball, and all the networking possibilities and wouldn’t he enjoy a chance to meet the president of the Federation, newly elected at the end of Garesh-Inyo’s long tenure in the office. When Lieutenant-Commander Neal announced there was an incoming call for him, he paused the message and took it without letting the commander get to the identity of the caller.

“Jean-Luc,” came Will Riker’s sullen voice from the desk.

“Will,” he replied automatically. “How are you?”

“I’d be better if people didn’t make judgments about me without hearing my side of things.”

Picard took a breath and refocused himself before responding. “And I would find it more in character for you not to decide what I’m doing, before you ask me about it. It’s not any of my business, whatever it is you think I’m judging you on.”

“I’m sure she’s told you all about it. What she’s decided happened, anyway. I know she’s there. I know you took her back as your counselor, instead of encouraging her to work things out.”

There were all kinds of potential responses, but Picard set all of those carefully aside. “You’re wrong.”

“Can you just tell her I need to talk to her?”

“I can.”

Riker exhaled noisily. “I’m sorry -- “

“Yes.”

A long pause. “You’re angry at me. Why? She’s the one who left. She ended the marriage. I didn’t get a choice in anything, I can’t even do anything to support my child, because she won’t let me -- “

“Why? Why did she remove herself so completely from your life? I haven’t asked her, and she hasn’t said anything.”

Another silence, that stretched long across subspace. “We were arguing about -- about Kylie,” he said at last. “She confronted me the minute I walked in, with her eyes full of hurt -- I’d had one of the worst weeks of my life, between being kept up all night by her moaning and the mission we were on, and I probably looked like I hadn’t slept for months. I didn’t -- it wasn’t what you think. It wasn’t anything I ever intended to happen. Kylie gave me a hug, because she could tell I was having a hard time, and the next thing I knew -- I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” he exclaimed angrily. “Deanna was crying like I’d never seen her and it made it so much worse, I already felt more guilt and self hatred than ever, and she wouldn’t let me touch her. I was so upset that I grabbed her, and I was holding her by the arms, and she -- I couldn’t get her to settle down. To stop -- “

“You didn’t think to just let her go, let her calm down on her own,” Picard exclaimed stridently.

“I wasn’t really thinking.” Another silence. “Look, I have to see her. I need to apologize to -- “

“Will,” Picard cut in, softly. “You are quite possibly the most selfish person I have ever met.”

“Jean-Luc?” The disbelief in his voice made it even worse than before.

“You took her career away from her, and then you forced her to sense her husband having an affair, and then you tried to force her to engage in conversation about it immediately after. You are an ass. I expect you’ll find enough decency to leave her be, and if you cannot, you can expect further legal action. If I have to pursue it myself.”

“It was her choice, to step down for the duration of the pregnancy! She was hurt, she might be -- “

“She probably knew that if she expected to continue to work, she would have to sacrifice her marriage. You know exactly what she would do, in that situation. That does not mean she wanted to do it, and there were other compromises that could have been made!”

“Look, you haven’t -- “

“I expect you to consider, too, that she said nothing about this to me, likely out of respect for our friendship. Because you feel the need to pretend to be an injured party in all of this, clearly I’m to have pity on you, to justify having an affair because your wife is suffering through pregnancy and not in the mood. I don’t feel particularly generous in this matter. I’m quite disappointed, on several counts. I really don’t see that there can be any justification for such behavior, toward someone who always stood by you and helped you pick up the pieces more than once. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Derisive laughter was his only response. 

“And now you find it funny.”

“It’s ironic, how a counselor can make everything go bad by just failing to talk to anyone,” Will said. “She doesn’t deserve this? She came into a marriage and lost interest in it. The honeymoon went fine, coming aboard the ship we were enthusiastic, and then she got hurt on that away mission -- the doctor found out that she was pregnant, then, and so I was happy and worried all at the same time. She agreed that it was better to not risk the baby, so no more missions. And then everything went sour -- she hardly showed any interest in what I had to say. Didn’t want to talk about missions. Didn’t want to let me do more than hold her. She kept counseling appointments but it was clear she’d lost interest.”

“At what point did you start to talk to Kylie?”

He fell silent, of course. “I don’t remember.”

“At what point did you start to be frustrated to the point that you stopped trying to touch her?”

“Good God -- what are you now, the counselor?”

“Did you forget that she enjoyed being an officer, and that talking about missions she couldn’t join you on is depressing? Did you forget that she doesn’t necessarily ask for help, because she’s used to being the one who helps?”

A long, long silence. “God,” he whispered at last. “Why didn’t I see it?”

“You -- “

“It was because she missed you.”

“What are you saying?”

Riker acted like he hadn’t heard him. “It was because I’m not you. She didn’t trust me as a commanding officer, because I wasn’t you.”

“Rubbish! You were my first officer, she followed your orders -- “

“Are you in love with her?”

Picard gaped at the desk, stunned, all the air gone from his lungs. It was a good thing this was a voice-only call. “What are you saying?”

“Are you?”

“I don’t like what you are implying, Will, and it’s not helping matters.”

“What would help is being able to talk to her, and she won’t let me do that. Or is that your idea?”

“I’m done with this! You can take your accusations and -- “

The ready room door opened without warning, and Deanna came in, wearing her maternity uniform and a knowing expression. She came and sat across the desk from him. 

“Will, you have a lot to think about. I suggest you start at the beginning. Perhaps remembering who you’re talking about will help.”

“It’s a simple enough question, you know,” Riker went on, his teeth sunk in and not letting go of the idea once he’d had it. “So how long have you been in love with my wife?”

Picard stared at her across the desk, frozen in his chair.

Deanna didn’t flinch at the question. There was a curl in her upper lip, and she angled her head slightly right, furious. When she spoke her voice was quite calm. “He’s never been in love with your wife. You have at least that in common.”

Oh, the whole fleet could have flown through the tense silence, at impulse -- Picard smiled, nodding at her.

“You should go back to fucking Kylie and leave me alone. Uncomplicated and impersonal is apparently easier for you. I was in the process of working out a visitation schedule, but perhaps I’ll postpone that for when Adelaide is old enough to decide whether she wants anything to do with you on her own.”

“You can’t do this,” Riker cried, indignant. “She’s my -- “

“Shout at my attorney, if you like. I’m not interested. Go ahead and try -- I know how much sympathy I have among your crew, everyone who has a clue knows about Kylie, and I’d absolutely love to see you tell a judge about all of it. I really knew better, but I let myself mistake a good friendship for a good husband, and ended up ruining both. So I am sorry -- more than you’ll know -- but I have a home, and who lives in it with me is dependant upon whether I feel they will be good for my daughter. I think that you need to talk to a counselor until you have a better understand of what’s best for a child. I refuse to allow her to have a father who tries to physically force her mother to stay and listen to his rationalizations for bad behavior.”

Silence, again. Picard watched the green light on the panel until it went dark. “I didn’t think he would give up so easily.”

“I doubt he’s given up.” Her hand rested on top of her belly -- she was at nine months, now, and her lap was gone. She winced. “Sorry, just a little indigestion.”

“He thinks the problems in your marriage were something to do with me.”

Deanna frowned. “He’ll backfill with anything that makes me look like the problem, I’m sure. The real problem is that I am an empath and he is prone to self justification and selfish behavior. He can’t stop his mouth. He has to throw his latest suspicion at me. You were defending me a little too emotionally, he puts together the pieces a new way that suits his angry, self pitying mood.”

Picard almost asked how she knew he’d been talking to Will, but refrained. “Well. We’re due at Serren Two in four hours -- “

She smiled brilliantly at him, startling him speechless. 

When he recovered enough to speak, he tried again. “And I debated having you join me, as it’s a diplomatic effort, and I’ve always found your presence to be beneficial on -- Deanna?”

“I don’t think I should go,” she said softly, her smile only getting brighter, if anything.

“Of course. I will of course introduce you to the ambassador, if he accepts my invitation to join us aboard the  _ Enterprise _ . I think -- “

This time, she was quiet for a moment, along with him.

“I think I’m babbling,” he said at last. 

“It’s all right.”

“How is your back?”

“A little sore, today. I should go -- I’m exceeding the hours I’m supposed to work, on the reduced schedule. But I wanted to come tell Will to leave us alone, again, and maybe he’ll do it for a while. At least until Adelaide is born.”

Picard rose and followed her, out to the bridge, into the lift, and when she took his hand he let her, not pulling away. She hadn’t done that again in weeks -- not since Marseille -- but she did so now with more confidence than before. 

At the door to her quarters, the same ones, just two doors down from his, he caught her arm. But he felt too exposed in the corridor, even one that saw so little traffic, and started to go.

“Jean-Luc,” she said urgently. 

He stopped in his tracks, and slowly turned to find her wide-eyed and afraid. “Dee?”

“My water just broke.”

“Okay,” he said, though he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He took her arm and walked her back to the lift.

“Okay?” she echoed, incredulous. 

“I’m sure we’ll get to sickbay well before the real labor starts.”

* * *

“We’ll be expected to have a full survey completed within the month, as I’m supposed to attend the admiralty ball, much to my dismay,” he said, wrapping up a briefing for the survey of a solar system that the Federation intended to terraform and colonize.

“I'd like to use the time to run some drills,” Neal said. Security would be less occupied, given the planets in the system were lifeless, so far as the initial survey indicated. 

“A good idea, I think. After the ball we’re to be patrolling the Neutral Zone, again. Anything else?”

“How is Commander Troi?” That from Stahl -- the first officer liked Deanna, as they all did, and since she had gone on maternity leave for a while she wasn’t present. 

Picard smiled a little at him. “You could go visit her yourself, you know. If you haven’t seen Adelaide, you should.”

Stahl shrugged, showing a little anxiety. “I guess I wasn’t sure if she was taking visitors.”

“She’s fine,” Dr. Mason said. He’d had mother and child in sickbay often enough. “Quite happy, now that the baby isn’t kicking her in the bladder.”

“Dismissed - thank you,” Picard exclaimed, rising from the head of the table, snatching up his coffee to take with him to the ready room.

“A moment, Captain?” Mason asked, trailing after him across the bridge.

“Certainly.”

He sat at the desk, brought up the daily logs from yesterday, glanced at his messages -- there were none from admirals, so he left them to pile up some more -- and turned his attention to the doctor, who now sat waiting with a serious expression.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know. But I would like to ask a question that is perhaps too personal, for reasons pertaining to matters I will divulge when I have an answer.”

Picard took a deep breath. “All right.”

“You brought the counselor on board to fill the position, and she’s done so with the expertise I would anticipate, given her experience. That’s the official position, and I’m sure it’s also true. What is the nature of your relationship with her?”

“She’s a good friend. Why?”

Dr. Mason smiled. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, Doctor, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask the question, because I’m not sure what else there is that you could think.”

“I think you’re aware of what the rest of the staff likely thinks,” Mason said. “It’s not a concern for me one way or the other. But I have a subpoena requesting my input as to the commander’s -- “

“Oh, good God, the man is delusional,” Picard exclaimed. “Do you know why I went to pick her up?”

“I assumed because she was taking the position.” 

“She sent me a message requesting a letter of reference. She said only that she was no longer serving aboard the  _ Titan _ and that she was looking for another position, and I could tell she was in tears when she sent the message. So if you were sent such a message, Doctor, by someone who was responsible for saving your life, who had been a comrade-in-arms and a good friend for years, and you were able to do something to help, what would you do? I had no idea what happened, or that she was pregnant. I believed, up until I received that message, that she was happily married and serving aboard her husband’s vessel. If it had been a message from Commander LaForge, my former engineer, I would have done the same thing! As each of them would do for me. That is the nature of my relationship with my friends.”

The doctor nodded, considering his statement. “That sounds true to me.”

“Because it is, of course.” Picard picked up his coffee. “Anything that might be between us after the fact is immaterial. Riker has an axe to grind, and it sounds like he’s willing to waste everyone’s time to do it. I have the original message, and others -- I can provide documentation that whatever prurient fantasies he has about us are quite fictional.”

Mason smiled happily, drawing a suspicious look from him. “I’m just relieved -- the thought of losing one or both of you as a result some sordid court battle that might lead to subsequent courts-martial was not pleasant.”

“Who else is getting these subpoenas?”

“The senior staff. None of us are inclined to be very compliant, by the by.”

Picard sighed. “If this is the way it’s going to go…. Perhaps there’s something to be done about it, to keep him from dragging us all through court. Thank you, Doctor, for letting me know.”

Mason gave him a moment of incredulous staring. 

“What?”

“I’ve never met someone who could be so calm, in the face of such a situation.”

Picard gave him a mercenary smile. “Oh, trust me -- somewhere in here, I’m swearing in four languages and ready to kick his ass for bothering us with this.”

Mason nodded. “You’re saying that the focus of the investigation is actually going to be on your relationship prior to her coming aboard?”

“She filed for divorce and got it. She can marry you tomorrow, if she’s so inclined. It isn’t about what came after she left him. This is about custody of the child, and he thinks he’s going to prove that she wasn’t invested in the marriage either, to even the playing field -- it’s going to backfire on him. If you’ll excuse me, Doctor, I have a message to send, along with some additional files that will make all of this a moot point.”

The doctor left, almost without Picard noticing -- he turned to his monitor and brought up his messages, and asked the computer for all messages from Deanna since she had resigned her position aboard the  _ Enterprise _ . There were two -- hardly what one would find had there been a torrid affair in progress. He replayed both of them, to be certain of what each contained. The first was a happy-sounding thank you, for the wedding gift, and a chatty summary of what she and Will had done on the honeymoon. The second was the message she had sent him requesting the letter of referral. 

“Captain, I hope this message finds you well. I regret that I have been… That I have not made the time to contact you, since the wedding, especially to thank you for the lovely gift. I hope -- “ There was the weighty pause. “I’m sorry, I’m not at my best, at the moment. I’ve contacted you to ask for a letter of reference. I’ve left my position on the  _ Titan _ and have been staying for a while at Starbase 245, until I can find a new assignment. I’m leaving Will. There’s too much animosity between us, and…. If you could forward the letter to me I would much appreciate it.”

Another pause, which he recognized as such when he heard her sniffle quietly. The message continued, and it was almost enough to break his heart, listening to her sounding so sad.

“I wanted so much for this message to you to be happy, telling you about working with Will on the  _ Titan  _ and that this marriage was bringing both of us all the happiness you wished we would have, in the beautiful toast you made at our wedding. I wanted you to be happy for us. But it’s not worked out as I hoped it would, and I cannot stay. It’s -- “

The silence must be for her to wipe her eyes and recover. Her voice would start to wobble, and she would pause.

“I will always look up to you, Captain, as you were a good friend and mentor to me. I never thought I would do all the things I’ve done, over the years. Without your support I doubt I would have pushed myself to take the bridge test, or to learn navigation. I hope that I have not -- not disappointed you, in -- thank you, Captain, for everything.”

He sat for a few moments just trying to slow his racing heart, so he could compose a cold, cutting message to Will, instead of ordering a course change and tracking the man down to shove him out an airlock. After, of course, slamming his head into a few walls on the way.

When he asked the computer to record, he had reduced the rage to a weight in the pit of his stomach.

“I am attaching the only two messages that Deanna sent to me, since she left the  _ Enterprise _ with you,” he said, pleased that he even managed to sound pleasant about it. “Since you have pointlessly sent subpoenas to my senior staff, in an attempt to drag her through the mud without cause, I felt you should have the only evidence present as to the nature of my relationship with her. I would wish you luck in your pursuit of custody, but my last assessment of you remains, so I will settle for hoping that Adelaide remains in her mother’s custody and recommend to the attorneys she has retained that they send a subpoena for the contents of your safe that are not classified Starfleet material.”

He sent the message on its way, and settled back in his chair to wait. The thought of Will Riker being forced to give over his collection of lurid pornography to a room full of attorneys put a smile on his face.

Of course, if he had played his hand well enough, Will would be withdrawing the lawsuit shortly. But it was a satisfying image nonetheless.

* * *

Picard went to his quarters at the end of alpha shift, and as he approached his door, down the corridor Deanna’s opened. She stepped out and gestured for him to approach. Curious, he did so, and noted that her expression wasn’t stressed. Perhaps Adelaide had started to sleep through the night. She’d been struggling with the baby’s wild sleep schedule for five weeks now.

“I have some good news,” Deanna said as he came close enough for her to speak without raising her voice. She gestured, inviting him in.

Adelaide was in her crib, for once -- usually Deanna had her in her arms. He came to smile down at the baby, and to his surprise she smiled back, kicking and flailing her arms. 

“Hello, Addy,” he said, picking her up carefully. She smelled faintly of the baby powder Deanna used. He turned and glanced at Deanna to find her watching him with a soft smile. “So what’s the news?”

“My mother is going to be at the ball, as part of the diplomatic contingent -- she’s hoping we can have her aboard for a while.”

“Well,” he began, not wanting to discourage it, but also not looking forward to being teased endlessly.

“I’ve already talked to her about that. I actually took a little extra effort to explain to her that you protected me, from Will’s attempt to sue for custody, and that you went to all the trouble of actually coming to get me instead of just sending along the letter I requested, and tried to make it plain to her that I wouldn’t be happy with her if she tried to manipulate or tease you this time. I also mentioned that I intend to be here for the foreseeable future, and if she intends to see Addy often it’s in her best interests to not offend you.”

Addy burbled, and smiled again, drawing his attention. “I hope you like presents,” he told her. “Something tells me Grandma is going to fill the room with them.”

“We need to talk about something,” she said, holding out her arms. He passed her the baby without hesitation, and she put Addy back in the crib, then leaned down to drop a kiss on the baby’s forehead. She went around the crib and sat on the couch, so he went the other way, around the coffee table, and settled next to her, careful to keep some space between them.

Deanna looked downward, suddenly seeming nervous. “Mother is going to comment and likely have one of two reactions, when she gets here,” she said softly.

“This would be the bad news, following the good news?”

Deanna raised her eyes and gave him a look that turned him to stone, anticipating what she was about to say. 

“Mother will either be very angry, or relieved. Either could result in a reaction that you may not appreciate. I can try to -- “

“Wait, I missed something,” he interrupted. “What is it that she is going to react to?”

Deanna went quite still and suddenly seemed very interested in her own knee. “I think -- “

He waited, still tense, but determined to let her finish speaking. 

“It was so much a relief, when you arrived on the starbase. And then you just -- accepted, whatever it was I needed, you accepted that and provided it. It was just too much for me to take in, at first. You did all of the things that I thought… that Will should have done, as a husband. I started to feel such an attraction to you, that I thought I must be simply reacting to the situation, and that it would be nothing -- that I would stop feeling that way. I’d never felt that way before, about you. But you were there, when Addy was born, and you let me hold your hand, and you -- every time I needed comfort you were there. I was so -- afraid, of doing this alone. I knew I could, but it terrified me just the same.” She turned her dark eyes, full of tears and fear, to him. “I’m so afraid that you will tell me that you want our relationship to remain strictly professional, if I tell you that I love you.”

He couldn’t help laughing, just a little. “I would be foolish, to say any such thing. I can’t imagine why I would.”

Deanna’s brilliant smile returned, shining through the tears. They sat looking at each other, grinning, until she started to look at him quizzically.

“I’m waiting for you to tell me,” he said. “Or should I go first?”

She put her face in her hands, stifling a sob.

“Your mother will be happy,” he exclaimed. 

“How can you possibly know that?” she asked, reaching for the diaper bag at her feet and pulling out a clean cloth to mop her face.

“Because she called me demanding to know who it was you weren’t telling her about. So I told her.”

Deanna jerked her head up to gape at him. “What?”

“Honestly, you worry far too much about things, Deanna.” 

She laughed -- the first real laughter he’d heard from her, in over a year -- and reached for him. As she settled into his arms, he pulled her against him and sighed. 

“I love you,” she said into his ear. 

“And, as you likely already know, I love you.”

“I’m sorry that I keep crying on your shoulder. But it’s the good kind of tears,” she murmured.

Adelaide, following the pattern that babies all seemed to hold to, started to fuss the instant their lips met. Picard watched her reluctantly leave him to get her daughter. Deanna returned to his side, beginning the process of exposing a breast to feed the baby.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She seemed a little sad.

Picard put his arms around her and let her lean against him while she fed Adelaide. “Some things are worth the wait,” he murmured into her hair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking. But this is what's left of this one. Back to other plot bunnies for me.

Is it all truly broken  
 Irreparable mistakes  
Let's take our time  
Don't we have to try  
Too many missing pieces  
That's always been your reason to justify  
How you feel alive  
I wish you'd say

Tell me the words  
You long to hear  
And I'll sing them loud and clear  
Let me heal the wounds you've held on to for all these years  
Break the cycle  
Break the chains  
Love is louder than all your pain

Break the Cycle -- You + Me

 

 

Deanna woke as she did every morning, to pick up Adelaide. It was starting to feel like an endless cycle, and though she knew there would come a day that did not revolve around feeding, cleaning, changing, it was starting to get to her.

The minute Adelaide was in her arms she forgot everything else. She loved the little girl, with all she had -- the mood shifts were, her rational brain said, typical. New mothers were this way.

Until she went back to duty, on a reduced schedule for a while, this would be her universe. Except when Jean-Luc came to see her. Then she was torn between them, and more and more, she felt drawn to him.

When the chime sounded she was still in her robe, her hair all over the place and flying away from her head as it did when she hadn’t brushed it yet. “Oh, Addy,” she wailed, leaving the baby in the middle of the bed carefully and running for the hair brush. A few quick swipes with the brush did little good -- she grabbed something from her great big dish of hair ornaments and tied her hair back into the most awful pony tail she’d ever seen, frizzed out like a bush behind her. She looked at her reflection in the mirror with a forlorn expression, noticing the stain on one of the lapels of the fuzzy white robe. She thought about throwing on a dress, anything but a fuzzy robe, and turned -- and bounced off Jean-Luc. He caught her arms to steady her, gently, and let go the instant she pulled away.

“Oh!” She’d been so distraught she hadn’t sensed him come in.

“When you didn’t answer right away I was concerned -- sorry.”

“I’m just a mess, I was trying to -- I’m sorry, I’m behind schedule this morning. Addy kept me awake half the night and I can’t get my hair to do anything, and -- “

The warmth of his hand on her cheek stopped her hysterical babble, and then he kissed her, with the usual progression from a gentle contact to a deep, intense exchange of tongues, his left arm going around her. Adelaide of course had to say something about it. He stepped back, and left her feeling light-headed and gazing at him a moment later as the baby went from a warble to a howl.

She must have showed some of the desperation in her face, because he stepped past her and went to Addy -- the infant quieted almost at once, in his arms, fussing a little, and Deanna shook herself out of it and went to take her from him. “I suppose it’s time,” she said wearily.

“I can go, come back later.“

“No,” Deanna said, a little too insistently. Even as her hands went through the motions of putting Adelaide’s mouth to the nipple, tucking her head inside the robe, she turned to smile at him. “No, it’s fine. I might need help if she doesn’t let me have breakfast. She’s been so fussy, I don’t know what will happen if I try to put her in the crib.”

He was so careful to not intrude, not push, not demand. She knew part of that had to be his awareness of how Will’s behavior had affected her; she could sense what was behind the controlled demeanor, and that it was getting harder for him to be so restrained. He was deliberately being the complete opposite of Will -- the rage he’d had when he had found out what Will had done frightened her. She hoped, fervently, that Will would respect the injunction and stay far, far from her, because even before Jean-Luc’s feelings had shifted from his usual affection for a good friend to something more, his anger at Will had been dark and intense.

They settled on the couch, and she intended to wait to eat until Adelaide was done, but he replicated fruit and their usual collection of pastry and tea and coffee, and when he sat down next to her instead of eating the banana he peeled, he tore off a bit and held it up to her lips. She opened her mouth, accepted it, smiled and almost cried again. It was hard, not to remember Will doing the same thing. Hard to set aside the shame of having trusted him so much and seeing it go so wrong. She hated that she couldn’t enjoy this, with Jean-Luc, without being reminded of her former husband.

With his thumb Jean-Luc rubbed away a tear she hadn’t realized was there, escaping the corner of her eye, and turned his attention to making her some tea. She knew it was for her because he still drank Earl Grey, and he was making an herbal tea.

When Adelaide finished eating she settled the baby in her lap, left a hand on her chest while attempting to use her right hand to drink and eat, but Addy was having none of that.

And then Jean-Luc took her, wrapped her up in his arms, hummed to her, quieted her down, and watched Deanna eat breakfast.

“I’m transitioning her to replicated formula,” Deanna commented into the silence. “I have three weeks of leave left -- I also have to get her used to being with a sitter, so I can leave her in the daycare while I work.”

“And you have to get used to it, as well,” he said quietly.

“Yes.” Deanna tucked a strawberry into her mouth and chewed, contemplating the past months, wishing. She could never wish Adelaide away. There was nothing about having her that she would change, for anything. But she wondered, sometimes, what might have been if Jean-Luc had shown any interest in her before Will’s change of heart, which had come shortly after their return from the past, after the destruction of the Borg that had invaded the twentieth century. For a while, Will had patiently worked on getting her attention, ever so slowly turning on the charm and shifting gears. All the flowers, the candlelight dinners, the smiles and the laughter -- and then he’d started calling her imzadi again. And then the ring, and talk of the future.

Some part of her had fallen into the romance completely. Some smaller part had sided with her mother’s concerned words, and she’d ignored it. He had learned his lesson. He had matured. He wasn’t the brash young lieutenant any more. Of course, she had to learn the hard way, again. Of course.

Addy made a noise she hadn’t heard before, and she looked up from reaching for a grape, to find Jean-Luc smiling down at the bundle in his arms, and the noise came again -- Deanna’s heart leaped.

“Is she really laughing?” Deanna set aside her tea and plate, and shifted to lean on a knee on the couch, putting an arm on Jean-Luc’s shoulder and her chin on his bicep to watch Addy’s happy baby smile, watch the tiny hands wave and catch each other by the thumbs randomly as another wild giggle emerged.

“One of the best things about little girls,” he said, moving his hand to touch Adelaide’s cheek with a fingertip. “Their laughter can melt you in a heartbeat.”

Almost as easily as that affectionate smile from him could melt her, Deanna thought, as her eyes met his. She decided that she would take advantage of Lieutenant Martin’s offer to babysit, later in the day. If the ship would only stay off red alert long enough -- they were en route to Earth, the location of this year’s admiralty ball, and she hoped it would stay that way.

\--------------------------

Deanna looked over her shoulder, studying the long braid down her back. She’d braided in gold ribbon and tucked the end back into the knot on the nape of her neck, leaving a loop dangling. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t already seen her in all manner of states of being -- including in labor, sweating and shrieking like a Klingon, almost breaking his fingers -- but she wanted to do something. The end result of her efforts was adequate, she thought. The short pale gold dress was proof that her belly was back to normal, that her breasts were larger -- the low scooped neckline was enough, but the tightness of the bodice cinched it.

Adelaide had cried for a while, but Angie Martin had encouraged her to go anyway, she’d babysat so many babies and seen it before, reassured her that this was a phase to get through and it would get better. Deanna had difficulty going just the same. She knew this was common, herself, having counseled mothers before. She also knew, and realized all over again, that it was easier to reassure someone else than to actually go through it.

This time, when the annunciator chimed, she was ready, dropping the lipstick on her dressing table and practically skipping out to see him. He entered the room as composed as usual, in uniform, of course -- the gray and black. She realized, as he took note of her mode of dress, the absence of the baby, and his emotions began the corresponding shift to surprise and then pleasure, that she had never really seen him undressed. In sickbay, certainly. But sickbay was always different.

Without hesitation she went into his arms and kissed him. It was so easy, so reassuringly joyful -- he was so happy, as he had often been when they were together, only with the added layer of attraction and now the sexual energy interwined with the rest and as his hands slid along her body finding the edge of the skirt and the other threading into her hair she felt the charge, the excited energy she experienced during sexual activity. It always gave her such a buoyant sensation to have someone touching her, feeling this way about her, that it had in the past made her reckless.

Something about being with him now felt different. He had been so focused on protecting her and keeping her safe, or on helping her with Adelaide, that on top of the years of seeing him in his role as captain and the care he’d given his crew -- she trusted this man, so much more than she ever had any of the others. Instead of having to set aside the anxiety of the unknown, to hope that the faith she put in him would pay off, she felt a certainty that Jean-Luc would never turn out to be unworthy of that trust.

But she had felt that way about Will, just before the wedding.

Jean-Luc hesitated, and it was almost as though he knew what she was thinking -- but she realized she had gone tense in his arms just at the thought of Will.

“Sorry,” she whispered against his lips.

“Is it Adelaide? Is she all right?”

It surprised her when he did that -- it was like he kept it in mind all the time, that she could sense emotional reactions and then he would interpret her expressions, her reactions, as being due to something she sensed. Over the years Will had become complacent and forgetful in that regard. She had become so good at just ignoring and setting aside what she could feel from others that many people, even close friends, could forget that about her. Perhaps Jean-Luc had, due to his long habit of using her sense of things in the line of duty, learned to be different, not assume.

“No.” Deanna didn’t want to even mention Will’s name. It would change the mood. He would tense as she had, he would feel the anger, and it wasn’t what she wanted.

“It’s too soon, isn’t it?”

The soft, compassionate understanding from him broke her into a million pieces. She tried, so hard, to keep it down, but his hand left her hip and his arms went around her in the way of a man comforting a woman he loved, his hand guiding her head to his shoulder. And it wasn’t just tears, this time -- she wailed against his jacket and he stood against the shuddering and sobbing as if it were something he was accustomed to doing. It was so infuriating to be so far removed from Will and yet, what he’d done continued to ruin her happiness.

When she finally slowed to awkward gulping and hiccuping, she found herself being swung up into his arms and carried into the bedroom. Before she could take in what was going on, he had her earrings off, the necklace gone -- was there a class at the Academy in swiftly undressing women? -- and then he had the dress sliding up her body, and the way he was doing it made her shudder all over again.

“It’s all right,” he murmured, leaning to kiss her again. His fingers were in her hair, again, massaging her scalp, pulling out the braid, making her light-headed -- it was like he knew exactly how to make her body sing. She moaned against his mouth. Her eyes still stung a little from all the crying, but he was making her forget the tears and the sobbing, bringing her back to what they had been doing when she had interrupted it all. His hands covered her breasts, his tongue coiled with hers lazily, and then he came down with her on the bed. She let him do as he pleased, let him make her forget, let him push her arms and hands out of the way until they were open on the bed and she was in a completely-receptive position.

When his hand slid down her thigh and a fingertip found her labia, she felt as though she were flying apart for another reason entirely -- the tension thrummed through her body and she felt herself rolling toward him, reaching, but he thrust the finger into her while shifting himself so that his shoulder came up against hers, pressing her back down on the bed, and he kept kissing her, breaking away for a second to change angles but re-establishing contact at once. What held her in thrall was how he felt. She thought they had hit a high of emotion the day he had confessed to her, verbally, what she knew he had been feeling. This was making those feelings seem insignificant. She was awash in love -- this was something new, something so far beyond what she had experienced before -- it was a complex melody of love, affection, awe, adulation, a kind of reverence that had never been directed toward her -- there were so many notes that the symphony overwhelmed her.

The physical stimulation was almost subsumed in it, so she lost herself in sensations, lost the boundaries between their emotions and what he was doing with his hands. When another finger joined the first and he started to stimulate her clitoris with his thumb, it triggered an orgasm that almost tore her apart. The unexpected torsion of her body brought her head off the pillow and she felt a brief pain when they collided -- he started to laugh and rearranged himself to lay next to her on the bed, bringing her into his arms.

Deanna closed her eyes and let him hold her, finding herself relaxing against him, and when she caught her breath at last she sighed. “It wasn’t supposed to be….”

“I’m not interested in what is ‘supposed to be.’ How do you feel?”

“I don’t think there is a word for it. I’m better. So much beyond better. I think I hurt your teeth?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. Stop that,” he ordered, firmly, when her hand started to slide down his chest.

She went quiet, and started to feel uneasy.

“Not today,” he said, more gently.

“But -- “

“I don’t know, and I don’t think I should know, what is still making you cry that way. But you’re going to contact someone and start some counseling, via subspace, to repair the damage.”

“Jean-Luc,” she said, a little offended.

“You don’t get to bullshit with me about how you can get through your own trauma yourself. Don’t forget who you are talking to.”

She laughed at it, feeling sheepish. “I wouldn’t begin to do any such thing.”

“I’m not going to be happy if you force yourself to do anything that triggers any of it, just because you think I need it, or deserve it. I don’t care how I feel. I don’t care how frustrating it is. I don’t care what you sense. I am not going to cause you any pain, not even a little, if it can be helped. You aren’t there yet, Deanna.” His hand tangled in her hair, closed around some of it, held her cheek against his chest. It should have made her anxious, but the emotions behind it soothed away echoes of being pulled, pushed, or controlled. “I am not going to do anything to you that you are not ready to do with me.”

“I want to move forward,” she exclaimed, crying a little in frustration. “I don’t want to keep you at arm’s length when I know…. It would be so much easier, not being down the corridor, knowing you are two doors down and that you are thinking of me. Easier to sleep at night when I’m not alone. I miss you….”

“Then don’t be two doors down.”

Deanna clenched her fingers around some of his jacket. “But -- “

“I seriously doubt you are unaware of my nocturnal habits. I have nothing to hide. There is room for Adelaide, more than you have here.”

She smiled, pressing her face against his jacket, and lay there with his fingers playing in her hair, stopped herself from indulging in what-ifs and might-have-beens, and sighed. “Okay.” And then she enjoyed the happiness this gave him, and stopped feeling guilty about the awkwardness of it all.

\----------------------

“You have a glow,” Beverly exclaimed, walking with Deanna down the corridor. She looked just the same, slender and graceful, in her uniform. “Are you… pregnant, by any chance?”

“Oh, no,” Deanna said, shaking her head. It had taken five days to get to Earth, and Beverly had apparently been stalking the news feeds; she’d called them the instant the ship established a stable orbit.

“When you were describing how well Jean-Luc has taken to having Adelaide around, I thought -- but I guess it’s a little too soon for that, isn’t it?”

They came to the door of the captain’s quarters, and Deanna led the way through. She already knew her daughter was being entertained by Jean-Luc, as both of them were feeling as they usually did, during such activity. But Beverly stopped just inside the door and stared, at the sight of her old friend sitting there on the couch with a baby toy, dangling it in the air above Addy’s face while the baby flailed her limbs and made happy chortling squeals as the pink bauble spun before her eyes.

“Beverly,” he exclaimed. Deanna was ready to swoop in to get the baby, when he left the couch to go hug their friend, but he caught Addy up against his shoulder and then went to give Beverly a one-armed embrace, his left hand cradling the baby’s head against him protectively.

Then Beverly was taking the baby, cooing, giving her the slightly-addled wide-eyed happy look so many mothers gave babies. “Oh, she’s so precious,” Beverly cried in the usual high-pitched “baby voice.”

Jean-Luc shot Deanna a look of ‘here we go’ and said, “Would you care for something? Tea?”

It took a while for Beverly to not be so enraptured by the baby. Jean-Luc quietly made them all tea, while the chitchat about developmental milestones went on around him. Then Deanna took Adelaide into the bedroom, startling Beverly, and put her down for a nap since she was starting to fall asleep. When she returned, she found herself in quite a different conversation entirely.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Beverly intoned as Deanna settled again on Jean-Luc’s left and reached for her tea.

“Is Wesley all right?” Jean-Luc asked at once. Deanna knew it wasn’t her son, just from the way Beverly felt. It would be harder to talk about, feel more heavy on her, if it had been.

“No, he’s fine, even though I wanted to skin him when I found out he invited Will to the wedding.” Beverly shot Deanna a wary look. “I’m afraid I didn’t tell him fast enough not to, he started sending invitations and didn’t tell me he was doing it.”

“Will can’t come if he knows I will be there. I have a restraining order,” Deanna said, showing little emotion, though her stomach had already started to feel upset. Beverly knew only that they had divorced and Will was vindictive. Now Jean-Luc was watching her with growing concern, as he always did when this subject came up.

“Then I’ll contact him and tell him you will be,” Beverly said.

“Let Wes decide, it’s his wedding,” Jean-Luc said.

“What?” Beverly exclaimed, outraged.

“Wes doesn’t have to know what happened. But if he feels strongly that he wants Riker there, instead of me, he can make that choice himself.” Jean-Luc raised his cup to his lips.

“I thought Deanna had the restraining order.”

“She does. It’s best if I avoid Will, for his sake, however.”

“Oh,” Beverly said, clearly at a loss. Then, after a moment, she did the inevitable. “It must have been bad, if -- “

Deanna tried, but couldn’t sit still to even hear the entire sentence. She launched from the couch and unthinkingly left the room, finding herself standing in the corridor and bereft. Taking deep breaths, she paced down the long swooping turn of the corridor, knowing it would eventually return her to their quarters.

She rounded the deck at last to find Jean-Luc waiting for her. Without a word, he kissed her forehead and turned to go back inside with her. Beverly watched her return to the couch with penitent blue eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, brokenly, and the corresponding angst told Deanna that Jean-Luc had given her a good idea of what had taken place.

Rather than leap up again, Deanna sat and stared at her tea cup.

“If we go, we’re taking some of our security officers with us,” Jean-Luc said. It was unclear at first whether he was informing Beverly or both of them. “I realize that isn’t particularly friendly, and if Wes -- “

“I’ll talk to him,” Beverly said quietly. “He’ll understand.”

Beverly’s disbelief, worry, fear and dismay along with the continuing shock were not what Deanna wanted. Normally, she would smile anyway, force herself through it until the emotional person recovered and went back to normal. Normally, she would ignore, distract herself, until the emotional atmosphere changed. But this was a result of what had happened to her, it was impacting what should have been a wonderful thing -- not only had Wesley returned, but he was getting married, and all their friends would be there, or should be.

It was, of course, Will’s fault. But she couldn’t stop feeling hurt.

Then Jean-Luc took her arm, his fingers around it just above the elbow, and suddenly it was as though she was facing Will, while he shook her and ordered her to stop talking, stop and let him explain -- her stomach flipped and fear flooded her and she threw her arms out, trying to get away from him.

When she hit the floor, she realized she was hyperventilating and sobbing, and clapped her hands to the side of her head -- she realized that it was a flashback and that started an entirely different process, of embarrassment and dismay, and another kind of fear, that she would never recover from it. Her stomach rolled and wanted to reject the tea she’d been drinking.

“Deanna,” Jean-Luc was saying calmly, somewhere above. Then his hand found her shoulder, carefully. “He’s not here. Take a deep breath.”

“Would you like a sedative?” Beverly’s soothing doctor voice told her that she had scared their friend into being professional.

“No,” she blurted, hearing the distress in her own voice and hating the gulping hiccup that followed.

“That was a flashback,” Beverly said. Anxiety crept into her tone.

“I know what a flashback is, thank you,” Deanna snapped. She got up, taking the arm Jean-Luc offered to steady herself, and sat next to him again. She knew he was furious at Will, all over again, and he let her cling to his arm as if she might fall off the couch again.

“Have some more tea.” Beverly was trying so hard to be useful that she took the cup. Her stomach flipped again.

“Go take a bath,” Jean-Luc said. “Or a shower.”

She looked at him, smiling, recognizing the advice. Go ground yourself in something tactile, to fight disassociation and distract from disturbing memories. “Okay.”

When he came in, nearly half an hour later, she was almost asleep in the tub. The hot water had become tepid. He sat on the edge of the tub and smiled down at her.

“Beverly went to talk to Wes and Carina. And Starfleet Security. She knows Admiral Fitzsimmons personally, apparently. I think she may be as angry at Will as I am.” He tested the water with his fingers. “Far too cold. Would you like more hot, or is it time to get out?”

She sat up, touched the control panel, and the water began to drain. He helped her to her feet. “I’m sorry, it was the combination of being reminded, and then you grabbed my arm just where he did, only not so tightly. But it was enough to trigger the memory.”

He went cold sober, and anger tinged with guilt waxed and waned. “Can you give me a list of things that trigger it, without telling me the entire story?”

“No.” Deanna stepped over the wall of the tub and into the towel he held up for her. “There are actually several little things that do, a bit, sometimes. But they don’t trigger panic attacks or flashbacks. I haven’t said anything because repeated exposure to those is actually diminishing their impact.”

“Is there anything else that I have done -- “

“No, no,” she cried, turning to put her arms around him. “You -- “ She held her breath, held on to him, waiting for the urge to cry to pass. When it did, she loosened her arms and stood back from him, hands on his chest, smiling at him. “You make it easier. Just being with me. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

His eyes looked tired, and he smiled a little. His hand brushed her hair back, over her right ear. “Tell me, Deanna.”

“Sometimes -- when you have your hand in my hair, if it catches, a little, it reminds me of when -- I tried to leave, he had his hand, in my hair, and -- it hurt.”

It didn’t stop his touch on her head, he stroked her hair again, but with a much lighter touch than before. “Anything else?”

“No.”

She found herself in his arms, and relaxed into the warmth of his love. This was what she had thought would happen, before. What she thought she might never have, when she left the Titan.

  
“We should get ready for the ball,” she said after a few moments. “And I’m surprised we haven’t seen Mother by now.”

\--------------------

Deanna debated, and finally decided to wear a gown instead of the dress uniform. She returned from the small shipboard salon with manicured nails lacquered to match the dress she planned to wear, a pale pink gown that clung just enough to show off her figure without being form-fitting. She’d left the gown hanging on the front of the closet door, and when she returned and reached up to take it down, she saw that a necklace and earrings had been attached to the hanger. They were of a rose-colored metal that she was unfamiliar with, but matched the pink of the gown almost exactly. Rather than a pendant, the necklace featured slender bars that ran from four inches long in the middle down to a quarter of an inch, in a rounded taper that matched the curved neckline of the dress. The earrings were long, with several of the same bars dangling from each.

She put on the dress, put on the jewelry, and carefully added the spray of pink flowers she’d replicated to her elaborately-done hair. The hairdresser had outdone herself, using the natural volume of her hair to good effect; a large bundle of hair at the crown of her head was the beginning of a fall of curls, that reached her shoulder blades. The hairdresser had described it as Grecian, though Deanna was familiar with such styles and thought not.

Jean-Luc arrived, already wearing his dress uniform. “Lieutenant Martin has Addy, for the rest of the day,” he announced on the way in, and then froze at the sight of her.

“What do you think?” She stood on tiptoe, to simulate wearing the heels waiting for her on the floor near the closet. “Thank you, for the jewelry.”

“I… think you’re going to make it hard to think,” he said, crossing his arms. “And I suspect I shall have to put security around you all night, to keep the admirals off.”

She smiled at him, pleased at making him happy. That only made it worse -- he wanted her, in the worst way, and came to try to give her kiss on the cheek, barely touching her arm. But she turned her head, and it led to more than what he intended. After a moment he stopped kissing her, but couldn’t let go, held her and nuzzled along her ear.

“I shouldn’t,” he murmured against her temple. “We need to go.”

“Perhaps we could make a token appearance, and disappear. It would be their fault, for having it in London. We could go walk along the Thames, in the moonlight.”

“Perhaps. We’ll see how it goes. Any anxiety about it?”

He finally let go, and she put on the heels, some pink sandals, and took his arm as they left their quarters. “I don’t feel particularly anxious. Should I be? You said it was admirals, and some captains they want to coax into taking a promotion, and sometimes a captain or two who had a recent commendation. A handful of diplomats, like my mother.”

“Worf will be there. Riker will not, unless he decides for some reason to crash it. Since he wouldn’t know you will be there I can’t see why he would. Admiral Jellico may be there.”

“I’m not afraid of Jellico, and it will be good to see Worf again. I hope he wears his full ceremonial Klingon armor -- it should be quite impressive.”

The beam down point was on a broad square outside a brightly-lit building. It was night, and the three-quarters moon shone on the horizon. The stars were as a consequence fewer than she remembered. He strode up the stairs, shoulders back, feeling quite proud of having her on his arm. She put on a happy smile that matched their combined mood, and went into the high-ceilinged foyer, where he was required to confirm his identity with a retinal scan by security officers in dress uniform.

“I’ve always thought you looked quite handsome, in this version of the dress uniform,” she murmured as they passed through the wide double doors into the grand ballroom. He hesitated and scowled at her a little, but smiled and tugged at the high neck on the undershirt, then turned to put on a pleasant diplomatic smile and greet the first approaching admiral.

It took a full hour to stop greeting people and make it to the bar. She could see, within six admirals, why he hated these events. All of them approached Jean-Luc with outward good will and even friendliness, overdone and with little actual sincerity or enthusiasm. Each male admiral admired her without comment, keeping his smile superficial, or at least most of the humans did. There were a fair number of other species present. She managed to greet some in their native tongues, including the Vulcan admiral in charge of Starfleet Operations. There were only a handful who felt genuine admiration or just respect and good will for Jean-Luc. Admiral Fitzsimmons was one of the last, and he had a different array of emotions -- he went so far as to take her hand and assure her that the building was under tight security, that while the Titan was indeed in a high orbit at the moment she should be at ease because he had circulated the restraining order to supervising officers with an additional order to respect her privacy as much as possible.

Finally, they made it to the bar, to order drinks. She chose a mai tai, and the rum they were using tickled her taste buds. She was on the second sip, watching Jean-Luc choose one of the many wines from a long list, when she sensed him -- Will had defied Jean-Luc’s expectations, and was somewhere nearby.

But security was supposedly tight, and she searched the room, saw Fitzsimmons across the room talking to Admiral Farza, and with a brush of Jean-Luc’s sleeve and a nod, she headed over -- the restrooms were over there as well, so he shouldn’t be alarmed.

Fitzsimmons noticed her approach and turned to meet her with a smile. “Commander,” he said, bowing a little.

“To the matter we discussed earlier,” she said, glancing at Farza, “I can sense him, just to the east of our current position, outside perhaps. Not far away.”

The admiral blinked, and then he realized. “Excuse me, Farza, I have some business to attend to. You have nothing to be concerned about, my dear, please don’t give a moment’s worry.”

Sipping her drink, she watched the slightly-overweight admiral stride away toward the entrance. And then she actually saw him -- Will was in the foyer, at the security check, apparently arguing with the officer shaking her head at him, and he glanced up and saw her at once, staring at her open-mouthed.

Deanna felt her back stiffen and her head coming up -- then she caught herself. Crossing her left arm under her breasts, she raised her glass, then smiled and sipped her mai tai, pivoted on a toe, and crossed the room to the bar, using a loose gait that she knew would get plenty of attention.

She sensed the shock turning to fury -- at her, or at the security officers denying him entry, she wasn’t certain. Jean-Luc was turning from the bartender with his glass of wine and watched her come back, a contented smile in place. There were admirals and a couple of captains hovering to either side of him, some of them watching her as if hoping she was smiling at them.

“These shoes are not so comfortable as I hoped,” she commented, perfectly aware of who in the vicinity was paying attention to them. “Perhaps there is somewhere to sit?”

“Over here,” he said, gesturing -- there was an open double door just off the end of the bar. She tucked her free hand through his elbow and they strolled over to it.

The room beyond was quieter, though there were people in small clusters here and there. Music began to play -- that led to some of those gathered in the smaller room moving back through to the main ballroom, and Deanna sat in one of the chairs, frowning at the red velour.

“What a horrible shade of red. It’s almost orange.”

Jean-Luc sat in a chair just like hers and sipped his wine, glancing warily at a Ferengi diplomat scurrying by. “Better?”

“Your prediction was incorrect,” she said quietly.

He gave her a blank look.

“There you are,” Fitzsimmons exclaimed loudly as he hurried in and came to the corner they’d settled in. “You were right. And since he violated the order, he’s on his way to lockup, at Starfleet Command.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” she exclaimed, smiling up at him.

“Oh, no, my dear, you can call me Wallace.” His round cheeks were reddening. “I see they’ve started the music -- would you like to dance?”

“Thank you so much, Admiral,” she managed pleasantly despite the rising anxiety Jean-Luc was exuding. “But I’m not sure I’m going to make it through the entire ball as it is. I was feeling light-headed and had to sit down, I shouldn’t want to risk stepping on your feet or just passing out.” As she spoke she handed Jean-Luc her glass. He set it down on the floor nearby.

The admiral’s eyes followed the drink, then flicked back to hers. She sensed the shift, from hope to acceptance, and yet Fitzsimmons’ smile didn’t change. “Perhaps later, if you are feeling better, then. In any case, I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening. Captain,” he added, nodding, and went back out to the main ballroom.

“I think Will was trying to find you,” she said quietly. “He saw me, when I went to tell the admiral he was here. Trying to get in, they weren’t letting him. He was shocked -- he didn’t expect to see me.”

“I suppose he expects that I would not do anything untoward in the presence of so many admirals.” Jean-Luc was actually slumping in the chair, looking tired. “He doesn’t know me as well as he thinks.”

“I’m glad he did not get the chance to test his theory, whatever it was. I don’t want to lose you to a prison sentence.”

It was enough to shake him out of the dark anger, and he leveled a cool gaze at her. “You think I would hurt him?”

“I know how angry you feel, at him.” Tears prickled her eyes, again. “How angry he is.”

Jean-Luc was thinking, and it was one of those moments she knew could turn into something -- when he thought like that with an undertone of confident enthusiasm, it usually meant he was about to pull off something fantastic. But they were interrupted when a familiar voice rose above the strings and woodwinds. Her mother, greeting someone she knew.

Deanna smiled, hanging her head, and reached down to pry at the straps over her toes.

“You weren’t making up the foot pain,” he said. “We should go.”

“Wait for a few minutes. Let Mother make the rounds, finish your wine.” Deanna pulled off each sandal in turn, pulled her legs up into the chair beneath her.

Jean-Luc obeyed, and it wasn’t long until her mother calmed down enough to pay attention, and then there was a rush of shifting fabric and excitement heading their way at full speed.

“Oh, there you are,” Mother cried.

Deanna stood up and saw that her mother was just inside the door, wearing one of her billowing, bright green dresses covered with bits of sparkle. Their eyes met. It was an odd moment, usually Mother would rush right to her and either smother her with attention or with words, but she was hesitating for some reason.

Mother approached at a strange sedate walk, then reached out to take her face in her hands. The tears on her face shocked Deanna.

“Oh, Little One,” she sighed.

“I know, Mother. You warned me.”

Mother wrapped her up in her arms and voluminous sleeves, and it was for a moment as it was when she was small -- Mother was unorthodox, frivolous, fragile, unable to deal with tragedy in any straightforward manner, but she had always been a nurturing parent. Unfortunately to Jean-Luc the level of attention she gave felt like intrusion.

“Mother,” she said quietly, and Lwaxana knew her daughter’s cues and backed away, leaving a hand on her arm, trailing her fingers down, and out of the corner of Deanna’s eye she saw Jean-Luc tensing. But Deanna reached across to take the hand away from her elbow, and smiled fondly at her mother.

And Lwaxana’s attention shifted, her smile broadened, and she clasped her hands in front of her as if keeping them under control as she stepped toward Jean-Luc. He’d risen from the chair and held his wine glass in front of him, appearing casual, but with the ramrod posture Deanna knew well enough meant he was ready to face down anything from the Borg to a predatory woman. But Lwaxana merely smiled, and leaned over as if trying hard not to touch him, other than the light kiss she placed on his cheek.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

It led Deanna to wonder what Jean-Luc had talked to Mother about. She hadn’t quite believed him at first that he had told Mother about them, but clearly something had transpired between them. Both of them were tolerating each other but a tension remained.

“I think I should get something other than that,” Deanna said, indicating her sweating glass on the floor. “I didn’t anticipate the rum wouldn’t settle on my stomach well. Maybe some tea, if they have any.”

“I’ll get it for you,” Jean-Luc said, leaping at the chance to do so, picking up the mai tai and heading out into the main ballroom.

Lwaxana had happy lights dancing her eyes as she pressed her lips together and restrained her joy.

“Mother,” Deanna chided softly.

“Oh, dear,” she crooned, sweeping forward to put an arm around her again, leaning her head against Deanna’s. “If only we could all be so lucky. If only you could have been with him, earlier.”

She leaned against her mother happily, realizing that her mother’s approval meant more to her than she’d expected, and the tears weren’t far behind. Her smile crumpled, and she fought the impulse to cry.

And then Jean-Luc was there, the gold braid down his jacket appearing in her field of vision. “The fleet admiral gave me a look,” he muttered. “I think I’m about to get another offer of a promotion.”

“It would make sense. I’m sure they need good admirals as much as they need good captains,” Deanna said. “Judging from what I’ve seen tonight, I would suppose they need them more. Are you considering it?”

She’d asked without really thinking much beyond what her good friend would want, but he startled her by staring at her, clearly thinking hard, and then he turned to Lwaxana. “We’re going to go. If you could mention, perhaps, to the fleet admiral and perhaps a few department heads that your daughter was feeling ill and I escorted her home, that should avoid any faux pas on my part.”

“Of course, my dear,” Lwaxana said, touching his arm but pulling back swiftly.

Jean-Luc caught her hand, brought it to his lips briefly -- it shocked both Deanna and her mother, but he caught her arm and headed toward the back of the room, and her mother flitted off at once toward the main ballroom, already singing out the first name of an admiral joyously.

“Where are we -- you know all the exits,” Deanna exclaimed as he pushed through a swinging door and led her into a hall. At the far end there was another door labeled in large red letters, ‘exit.’

“Of course. The more information you have, the easier it is to avoid undesirable ends.”

She stopped just outside, when the cold pavement shocked her bare feet, and Jean-Luc turned to give her the sandals he’d carried in his fingers. She leaned on him to put them on, one foot at a time. The moon was higher, and the city lights were beautiful. She took his arm and they left the side entrance, heading up the alley to the street. Without asking he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

“I’m only taking the promotion if it’s the best thing for both of us,” he said, his breath misting in front of his face.

The sob escaped her before she could stop it. His arm slipped across her waist, and he pulled her against him firmly. They hadn’t talked at all, about the future. Not about careers or living together, or home, or retirement. It was so much the opposite -- for years, Will had swung one way or the other, but always talked, talked, talked about the future, having kids, having a home -- a real home full of laughter and joy. His childhood had sounded miserable to her, raising himself with a distant father who when she’d met him came across to her as a hard, angry man. He wanted something different, he said. Something normal.

She felt ashamed, that she hadn’t remembered that about him. That she hadn’t remembered how important it was, to have nurturing parents, or at least one of them.

Jean-Luc walked with her toward a tall building lit with blue and gold light, street lamps casting golden pools on the pavement. It was a quiet night in London. She heard laughter, echoing down a side street, and a tinkle of a piano started.

“That sounds like Jazz,” he commented. “Shall we?”

It was as unexpected as his kissing Mother’s hand. They turned and strolled down to an open door, where a couple lounging against the wall kissed each other, the woman pushing her hands against the wall on either side of the man’s head. Jean-Luc stepped around them, towing Deanna behind him by the hand, and they went down a short hall and emerged in a crowded noisy room. The piano in the corner was on a raised dias, and a bass player started to pluck the strings to accompany the pianist. Another man raised a horn and began a long string of notes, lazy swooping runs and arpeggios telling a sad story.

It reminded her of Will, and his trombone, in happier times. She felt her knees lock up as she stared at them. Jean-Luc shoehorned into a corner, dislodging a young man from a small round table to tug her over to sit. The young man smiled at her hazily, appreciating her briefly before he slipped off into the crowd, giving up his seat to the lady. Since there were currently no other empty chairs, Jean-Luc leaned against the wall behind her, arms crossed. If she let her head fall back a few millimeters, it rested against his side. After a bit, his hand came to rest on her shoulder.

The trio began another song, a little more syncopated, and a waitress came by to offer libations. Jean-Luc said something to her and she returned shortly with glasses, placing one in front of Deanna on the table and handing him the other.

They lingered and listened to music until their glasses were empty, and the band took a break. Then Jean-Luc touched her shoulder, and she sensed he was ready to go. She stood and went with him back into the dark alley. The couple had gone, and the stars were brighter, the moon having passed out of the sky.

He had his jacket caught in a finger, slung over his shoulder, and brought it forward to pull his comm badge off it. “Picard to Enterprise, two to beam up.”

She hardly looked at the transporter attendant; she was tired, and followed him through the ship. In his quarters, she sat on the end of the bed and took off her shoes, and he went in the bathroom for a moment. She had her jewelry off and was pulling pins out of her hair at the dressing table, when he came back bare-chested.

She looked up at him, and he came to stand next to her, holding out a hand. Deanna ran her fingers across his palm, catching his fingers, rising from the chair and leaning in to kiss him.

He caught himself, as he started to lose himself in the kiss, but she pushed forward confidently and cupped her hand over the back of his head. Her other hand pushed in the front of his waistband, found the stiff hard-on she’d felt pressing against her, and it was enough to make him forget -- his hands roamed eagerly around her body, moaning, and the wave of emotion crested and fell on her.

In a rush he pulled the dress up and off her, and she pushed his pants off and down, and they left it all behind and sidestepped together toward the bed, as their mouths found each other again.

But he wasn’t totally caught up in it -- he lay her down gently, moving her hair aside so it wouldn’t be pinned down in any way, then came down with her and started over, kissing her gently while caressing her hip, and when he finally slid inside her, she was ecstatic -- more than ready for this, after a week of being in bed next to him, of being in casual contact without more than some intense kissing and fondling. She moved against him, smiling, crying a little at how she felt like they were soaring off the bed and wanting to touch him everywhere at once. She loved how it felt to slide along against his chest, how he responded to her when she moaned by moving into whatever he was doing, running his thumb around a nipple, thrusting with increasing intensity, placing open-mouthed kisses along her throat as she arched her back and moved with him.

Their movements became less urgent, and he shifted his weight to the left, ending up more or less on his side of the bed. It didn’t dislodge him entirely, but he was going soft, and she could tell he was more than happy. He held her, not complaining at her weight on his arm, kissing her face, pushing his against her hair, his free hand still sliding over her ribs, her hip, along the thigh she’d left thrown over his, dipping between them to run a fingertip into her navel then sweeping up to her left breast to circle her nipple.

“What do you see yourself doing, over the next few years?” he asked, a lazy huskiness to his voice that thrilled her. After the ecstasy and satisfaction of finally making love with him, it was the tone she responded to first. The words registered after a few moments.

“Staying here. Like this.”

His arm got tighter, across her back, and she felt a long warm sigh across her ear. “Yes. I was referring to your career.”

“I… suppose, that I hadn’t really thought about it. With Adelaide I stopped thinking about it at all.” She tried to focus -- such an inconvenient time for him to bring this up. “I was thinking, a couple of years ago, that I might want to work toward taking command of one of those diplomatic vessels they intend to send into the Delta Quadrant. But I’m not sure any more that it’s reasonable to do that.”

A mixed response, from him -- pride, a little hesitation, some concern, a few moments of silence.

“How are you feeling, about this? About us?” he whispered finally.

She felt the laughter bubbling up before it emerged, wriggled against him happily and kissed him again. He indulged, pushing himself up on one elbow to lean into it, and broke away, kissing her temple in passing and moving off.

“Jean-Luc?”

“Come help me with something.”

“Now?” she exclaimed.

“I need to know if the tub is big enough for two people.”

Of course it was. They just hadn’t verified it yet. She settled against him contentedly in the hot water, once it was full and steaming, and he had to hold on to her slippery body to keep her head above water. Twining her arms around his waist, she relaxed, head on his shoulder.

“I need to go to a meeting, in the morning,” he said at last. “I’ll probably be gone before you are up. All right?”

“Of course. Perhaps I’ll just wait in bed for you.”

He chuckled at it, sliding his hand down her back. “Something tells me that will be a short-lived thing, if Addy has anything to say about it.”

“Mother’s going to be aboard -- I probably won’t be able to pry her away from her for two days.”

“Hmm.” His hands started to be a little more active, pulling her against him. “That sounds promising.”

She kissed him for a bit, and they dried each other off and finally went to bed, without the night clothes they had been wearing -- the last barrier was past, and she enjoyed very much the feel of skin on skin, as he draped an arm over her and came to rest spooned against her as he slipped into sleep.

\--------------------

As he had said, she awoke alone, stretching like a cat and happy to see that there was a vase of roses on the night table. Then she heard the annunciator, and realized that had been what woke her up. Throwing on a robe, she didn’t bother to check the mirror and went out.

“Hi, Beverly,” she said as the door opened. Her friend grinned at her, coming inside.

“Well, don’t you look like you had a good time,” Beverly exclaimed. “The admiral’s ball must be a real party.”

“A real boring party. We escaped out the side door and went to a nightclub, for a while.”

“And then?”

Deanna busied herself getting coffee. Beverly’s eyes focused on the croissants, and Deanna realized then that Jean-Luc had breakfasted with the doctor often over the years. But she ignored the emotional response, and smiled, and added a little cream to her cup.

“I need to get Adelaide in a bit.”

“We can do that.” Beverly took a croissant and bit into it. “Where is he?”

“Some meeting. The fleet admiral was pursuing him last night, again, about a promotion.”

“When did the two of you start to -- you know,” Beverly said, a bit uncertain about whether she should ask.

“I know exactly when his feelings changed. But he didn’t tell me, until just last month. He moved me in last week. I’m feeling… strange. I keep feeling anxious, waiting for it to blow up, but my rational mind keeps saying that it won’t. Because he wouldn’t do that.”

“No, I doubt that he would ever do anything to hurt you. Quite the opposite, from what I saw yesterday.” Beverly went pensive. “You told me in one of your messages a while ago that you had taken a leave of absence, because Will couldn’t stand seeing you at risk. I thought until yesterday that was why you left him. I don’t want to hear the whole story, but can you… Did Will hurt you, Dee?”

This was not what she wanted to talk about, but it was her friend, with whom she had talked so often about the men in their lives, and not Jean-Luc, who would be furious again to the point of rage and dark thoughts. Deanna reached for a pear and held it in her hands, in her lap.

“Will was drunk,” Deanna said at last. “He started drinking, somewhere along the way, not synthehol. One of his friends gave him a bottle of real Romulan ale, as a late wedding present. It sat unused until I started to have round-the-clock morning sickness. He has the same intensity about sex, as always, the kind that almost feels flattering but I felt as sexual as any ill person does -- not at all. And without my work to keep me occupied I started to feel lonely and depressed, almost didn’t realize that at first, but when I was four months pregnant he started to complain incessantly and picked up the ale. He mellowed out after half a glass. And then he started to self-medicate with it, on a regular basis, and got another bottle. And then somewhere along the way he started talking to Kylie, in security, who was apparently always attracted to him and believed she could just -- he kept saying it was just talk, every single time. He kept swearing it was nothing. Nothing at all, and she was just a friend. It was like he never knew I was an empath, or maybe he’s gotten so good at believing himself that he didn’t realize he was lying.“

“God,” Beverly intoned, looking ill.

“I could sense them when it happened.” Noticing her hands were shaking, Deanna put the pear back in the fruit plate, and picked up instead the ends of the belt of her robe. “I was beside myself, Beverly. I already felt nauseous and that -- that he could do that, to me, after all the times he’s called me his best friend, and after all the promises.”

“I’m surprised Jean-Luc hasn’t beat him to a pulp yet,” Beverly commented, sipping her coffee. “After you went to calm down yesterday he looked absolutely livid and had a few four-letter words to say about a man who could do that to any woman. For all his ideals, in some ways, he’s just an old-fashioned gentleman.”

It hit Deanna in the gut, then, and her hands flew to her face as she started to shake. She tried to find him, to sense his mood, and it was no use once she was this anxious. “Oh, no,” she cried, “no, he can’t!”

“Dee, I don’t think he would. Why would he do that?”

“Will showed up last night,” she blurted, starting to wring the edge of her robe in her hands. “He tried to get in, but security took him away. It was a violation of the restraining order for him to be within a kilometer of me. They probably released him on bail this morning.”

Beverly grabbed her by the shoulders. “But he still wouldn’t do anything! Shout at him, maybe,” she exclaimed.

The door opened, catching her completely off guard in her state of heightened anxiety, and she came to her feet and froze at the sight of Jean-Luc, holding a bag in one hand by the handle and Adelaide cradled against his chest in his right arm.

Humiliated, Deanna hurried into the bedroom and tried to calm down, gasping for air. It took moments for him to follow, but she turned away, flailing her arms, and escaped into the bathroom.

“Stop,” she shouted, furious at herself and not being able to calm down. “Stop, stop, stop! I just want it to stop,” she wailed, stumbling to sit on the edge of the empty bathtub.

A hand towel brushed her hand -- she snatched it and wrung it between her hands, trying to inhale air instead of sobbing. When she could finally breathe without a hitch in her exhale, as the sobs went away, she mopped her face and blinked -- he was kneeling in front of her on the floor, waiting.

“Sorry,” she said weakly.

He smiled at her, and said nothing.

“How was the meeting?”

“It went well enough. There were two, actually. One with an admiral, one with a bail bondsman.”

A sudden cold shock ran through her, and she began to wring and twist the towel again.

“Will is in counseling,” he went on, putting a hand on her knee. “He was, indeed, trying to find me, to talk to me. He wanted my advice on what he needed to do to make amends to you, and see his daughter. He wanted to apologize to me, for jumping to conclusions. He wanted to know how you were doing.”

More tears -- would she ever come to the end of them? She scowled, and furiously pushed the towel against her eyes. “What did you do?”

“I told him that you weren’t going to see him again, possibly for a long time, until you stopped having flashbacks and nightmares.”

“I don’t have -- nightmares?”

Jean-Luc got up, slowly, and she stood up with him out of reflex. He took the towel out of her hand and dabbed gently at her cheeks. “You have them. But you don’t wake up. I hold you and they go away.”

Now she stepped toward him, and his arms went around her at once, holding her with firm but not restrictive tension.

“He was upset by that, and he cried -- never seen him do that before,” Jean-Luc said, and she could sense his discomfort with that memory. “He told me about the drinking, and feeling out of control. Feeling like he had no way of helping you. The woman transferred off to another ship when he stopped having anything to do with her. It’s a bit of a mess, apparently she is filing a harassment suit. He wanted me to convey his abject apologies, and the hope of being able to apologize in person some day.”

Deanna felt sad, for Will, and shook her head.

“Do you remember what you told me, when you couldn’t get me to stop feeling the rage?”

“That it wasn’t really what the Borg did any more, it was -- “

When she started to feel stupid about it and couldn’t finish, he rubbed her back and did it for her. “It was the trauma. It was being stuck, in an experience that would not process. It was being held captive so that new perspectives could not form. That it would remain stuck unless I started to process.”

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed, sighing. “He was angry last night because he couldn’t get to us, to start the process of making amends.”

“So I have a list,” he said, moving right along, calmly. He continued to rub her back as if she still needed it, and to feel quite satisfied in what he’d done. “A short list, of vessels that are being built, and a longer list of counselors you can choose from. And Admiral Garcia feels that the chances of getting you a fourth pip might increase if you are afforded the chance to take the watch often, and lead some away missions, particularly the diplomatic ones.”

She closed her eyes tightly and tried to recover from this, so she could respond appropriately.

“I also wanted to see how you might feel, if I were to supervise a visit for Will, with his daughter.”

Everything in her wanted to reject it -- she flinched and started to shake.

“If it were my child, I would not rest until I could hold her,” Jean-Luc said softly.

Deanna started to cry again. She held on as if she might fly off into space without him there to anchor her.

“I’ll take Worf with me,” he continued, “and Beverly. If you let us.”

It hit her just right. It pushed her into unexpected laughter -- it was the image of Beverly and Worf standing guard, and it was a toss-up who Will would find more intimidating.

“Worf wants to see Will, too,” Jean-Luc added. “And he swore he would protect Adelaide with his life.”

“When did you see him?”

“Oh, he’s probably holding her right now,” he said. “I ran into him at Command, and brought him back with me since we didn’t see him last night. Your mother and Homn are settling into the guest quarters two doors down, and Data will be here shortly.”

“He’s here?” She stood back, ready to go, and noticed his dubious glance. She realized then she was still in a robe with her flyaway hair. “I’ll be out in a minute,” she exclaimed, turning and heading for the sonic shower in the corner.

By the time she made it back out, in a presentable dress with her hair tied back neatly, Adelaide was in Data’s arms, starting to cry, Worf was sitting on the couch with Beverly, a young man who was readily identifiable as Wesley though she noted that he looked older, like pictures of his father, and a same-aged red headed girl were all waiting for her, along with Jean-Luc who eyed her from across the room.

Wesley fell silent -- he’d been telling his girlfriend something -- and stared at her. Beverly’s head turned. Deanna realized that the sound of the baby’s cry had triggered the let-down of her milk, and there was a stain on the front of the blue dress.

“Oh, well,” she said, going to Data. “Hello, Data. Can I have my daughter?”

“Certainly, Deanna. It is good to see you,” Data said enthusiastically, passing Adelaide to her. “Your daughter looks a good deal like you -- she is just as beautiful as her mother.”

“Thank you. She’s hungry, at the moment. Be right back.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and returned to the bedroom. She would have felt comfortable breast feeding in front of everyone, but she suspected Data would then start a long string of comments or questions about it, and Worf would feel increasingly uncomfortable.

As Addy finished and started to fall asleep, Deanna went about cleaning up and putting on another dress, while the baby made soft contented noises and waved her fingers in the air slowly. Jean-Luc came in, and arrived just in time to fasten the back of her dress for her.

“I sent everyone down to the lounge. Your mother showed up, and it’s just too crowded for all of them. And Geordi’s now on his way.”

“I’m so glad all of them came to the wedding, so we can see them,” she said, then felt sad.

“What is this?” He put his hand on her back, looking at her face.

“Everyone except for Will,” she murmured.

“Only because he made some bad choices.”

She went to sit on the end of the bed, and watched Adelaide put her fist in her mouth as she fell asleep. Black curls stuck out from under the pink cap she wore. “You can take her to see him.”

He sat with her, silent until she turned to meet his gaze. He was sober, and she could sense pride, and an easing of tension, and he smiled. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Who should I leave with you so you don’t start to panic?”

Deanna groaned, rolling her eyes.

“Your mother, perhaps. And Data. Totally unflappable Data.”

“Oh, Jean-Luc…. You always have everything under control.”

“I’m only following a template you gave to me.” He smirked at her.

“What you said, about ships under construction,” she began, collecting Adelaide in her arms for the walk down to the lounge. “If I’m in command of a diplomatic vessel, where are you?”

“I’m the diplomat you’re carrying around from one planet to the next. The Federation ambassador to the Delta Quadrant.”

She smiled, and his smile grew in response to hers. “Then I have to have a good security department, to protect you when you get an idea and try to implement it. And indestructible shuttles.”

“What would be the fun in that?” He walked with her out of the bedroom. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about -- I haven’t crashed a shuttle in….”

“Yes?”

“It’s not relevant.”

“My point.”

“I want to point out that holding the past against me is unfair."

Deanna sighed, as they entered the lift. "Your point. All right... we'll set a quota. If you crash one shuttle, you don't get to fly another one."

"But how will I ever learn my lesson that way?"

She hugged his arm, and enjoyed the happy moment, knowing that it was just the first of so many.

\-----------------------

“Oh, Andrew,” Deanna sighed, bouncing the baby on her knee in an attempt to keep him from fussing.

The simulated beach was gorgeous, with pale yellow sand and soft, slow-moving waves that caressed the shore. She brought the six-month-old to her chest and settled back in the lounge chair, and rubbed his back until he quieted. She could hear Chloe laughing in the distance but didn’t look. It made her nervous when she saw Jean-Luc swinging her around the way she loved him to do.

After a few minutes a shadow fell across her face, and she opened her eyes to find her husband had arrived and was smiling down at her. “He’s finally asleep,” she murmured, warning him.

He sat in the chair next to hers and brushed sand from the loose tan shirt he wore. “Adelaide is showing Chloe how to hunt for hermit crabs in the tide pools.”

“What are you being so pensive about today? I can practically hear you musing from all the way down the beach.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about Labarre.”

If not for the chubby boy on her chest, she would have sat up to hug him. “You’re thinking of retiring,” she said quietly.

“I don’t like the way missions take me away from the kids.”

And he was tired, more often than not, despite his ongoing exercise regimen and the other things he did to keep up his excellent health. She smiled, running a hand over Andrew’s sparse reddish-brown hair. “I’ve been thinking the same thing, actually. Perhaps I should give over the Archimedes to the first officer, and take an extended leave of absence. If we did, would you take me to London first, for a vacation?”

“With the kids?”

“I was thinking they could go on an extended tour of their aunts and uncles, a week with each -- perhaps Will and his wife could take them for a while as well. Adelaide would love to have her siblings along while she visits him, I’m sure.”

He was a little surprised. Deanna turned her head slightly to see him watching her, with a smug smile that matched his emotions. She’d never suggested such a thing before. But Will had proved himself, with Adelaide, over the years. She was a leggy wild thing, happy and healthy, with a penchant for playing jokes on her little sister. Jean-Luc had started to teach her how to play his flute, but she’d picked up her father’s trombone at some point in the last year and fallen in love with it. She might have her mother’s hair and eyes, but she was definitely Will’s child.

“You would let them go, for that long?”

“We could visit with them for a day or two in between sitters.” She smiled again, thinking about her first visit to London, with him. “Perhaps that little nightclub is still there.”

His answering grin was all she needed to know she had his approval. “Make it so.”

It gave her a soft pang of wishful thinking, remembering when he was captain, and his orders were more official and less playful. But she smiled and turned to look the other way, as the girls returned, hand in hand. Chloe at four looked like a little doll, perfect rounded cheeks and straight black hair, with gray eyes, hints of her father’s smile showing up here and there. The girls wore matching green tank suits, as usual, little sister always wanting to copy her older sister. Adelaide had a crab in her free hand.

“Look, Papa,” she said excitedly. “It has a gold shell.”

“Well, they don’t actually have shells, they take empty shells to carry around for their homes,” he explained patiently.

“Can I keep it?”

Jean-Luc was often amused by Addy’s assumptions. This was no exception. “I think you’d best put it back where you found it. Removing little creatures from their homes is a violation of the Prime Directive, you know.” It did no good to explain this was a holodeck, that they knew well. Jean-Luc had proven to be as good a diplomat with the children as he had been with everyone else.

“Okay.” Adelaide looked down at it, waving its little pincers in the air. “Can I take a picture of it to show Daddy?”

“Papa’s work is never done,” he said, standing up and looking around them. “I think the holo-imager is in one of your bags.”

While he and the girls rummaged for it and got their picture, Deanna closed her eyes, and thought about their next destination. She had time later, after their afternoon on the holodeck, she hoped, to review Janeway's old logs before they arrived. Perhaps Jean-Luc would be willing to take the children for a walk to give her a bit of quiet to review them.


End file.
